


Chromosome Y

by Dealice



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Sexy Times, guilty pleasure, leg fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-10-11 08:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dealice/pseuds/Dealice
Summary: Yamato wears skirts, dresses, and then some for a month, Taichi realises he fancies that plenty, and Mimi is wing-woman-ing the whole situation.Just a piece of guilty pleasure to go around.





	1. Sway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JoKessho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoKessho/gifts).



> Out of sheer laziness, Taichi's teammates here are roughly the same ones as in Singularities XD This fic was written to indulge my sense of hedonism and is dedicated to Jokessho the lovely ^^

“Check out the legs on that one!”

 

Taichi’s head whipped to the direction Ryo gestured at and it didn’t take him more than a second to find what he was looking for.

 

A tall, blue-eyed, blonde beauty with thin, pale thighs, legs up to _here_ and a short, plaid skirt that let it all show. A doll, like a Barbie, only more elegant. 

 

Then there’s the hair, that wasn’t _too_ blonde to be natural, so she was probably the real deal – maybe a foreigner. Not like one of those idol-wannabees who dipped their heads in acidic bleach till their hair fell off or became so yellow the only one they could convince was themselves.

 

“Right up your alley, ain’t she, Yagami?” Kenji enthused and slammed his hand on Taichi’s shoulder – for misguided sympathy purposes or somethin’. “Too bad she’s too good for you.”

 

Roman snorted and grinned viciously. “Bet you he ain’t got the bollocks to walk up to a lush dish like that.”

 

“Sit on a pike, Roman,” Taichi threw at him, utterly apathetic. As the captain of the uni’s football team, Taichi’d been dealing with the bloke and his chin wagging for over a year, since Roman got accepted. Good player – rotten attitude. Dealing with difficult individuals was Taichi’s forte though, and after a month of watching Roman on and off the field, Taichi learnt the best way to handle him was walk the fine line between ignoring his casual vulgarity and not letting him disrespect his captain. Roman wasn’t stupid – he just had bad luck with thinking sometimes.

 

When Taichi had his attention back on the complete and utter babe, she was already surrounded by her “girlfriends”. But, with great help from a flash of a ginger, bob haircut, Taichi noticed those also happened to be _his_ “girlfriends”. As well as his sister and Takeru, who had a shit-eating grin on his face that stretched from here to next month. 

 

They were swarming the poor girl with shopping bags and almost tearing off her limbs in their zealous attempt to drag her all over DiverCity.

 

To the hoots and cheers of his football mates, who were perfectly content with ripping through their uber-humongous Hiro burgers while watching the show from the side, Taichi got up and moved towards the mob Mimi, Sora and Hikari formed.

 

He ignored his mates. They can run their mouths all they want, but Taichi _wasn’t_ thinking with his dick. If half the Chosen gathered around a new person, there was a damn good chance she also had a partner digimon and this concerned Taichi more than anything else. The world almost went to five different types of shit in oblivion last time that happened.

 

“Oi! Sora!”

 

The aforementioned turned around and looked positively ecstatic to see Taichi approaching them.

 

He squeezed her shoulder and turned to the new addition to their group. Up close, there was something stupid familiar about her. Actress? Model? A Former grade-school classmate to whom puberty had been _extra_ kind? Taichi instantly got that obnoxious mental itch – like when you turn on the radio exactly one second after the broadcast host declared the name of a song you know but can’t remember for the life of you. Then you spend the rest of the week obsessing about it and that’s bollocks.

 

His face contorted into a speculative expression.

 

“Fuck me if I’m wrong, but have we met before?”

 

With the bags hanging off her wrists, Sora put a fist up in her mouth, trying, and failing magnificently, to be polite and hold in the lung-popping laugh which was making its way up her throat.

 

Taichi looked around his other friends, trying to glean some explanation for this bizarre phenomenon, but everyone else looked like they were about to shit themselves. Or at least rupture an internal organ from holding in their own hysteric ‘Ha-ha!’s.

 

Getting a very brief hold of herself, Sora quipped, “I saw you flirting all our lives, Taichi, and it’s _still_ like seeing the same car crash again and again and again,” and went back to shoving a hand down her mouth to prevent herself from wailing all over the mall.

 

Giving up on her, Taichi looked back at the new blondie and met a pair of stunning blue eyes that spelled H-O-M-O-C-I-D-E.

 

What followed were a few timeless, yet countless, seconds through which Taichi’s eyes probably grew to the proportions of an exaggerated manga character while Yamato resembled an exploded watermelon surfing on a 719.86 wavelength.

 

Taichi got a grip over himself first and tried hard to _not_ blatantly look as though he had discovered his best friend was a cross-dresser. It amounted to a smile that skewed a bit to the right and went a tad too far up – but it was a _genuine_ one. Relative success, Taichi’d say.

 

If he were Yamato right now, he’d want his friends to… to just be his bloody friends, really.

 

“You look really nice,” Taichi said and absolutely meant it. Yamato had a nice pair of long legs and the skirt really showed them off. Treating himself to another peek, Taichi was almost shocked with how bleeding fantastic Yamato looked. Only almost – because there was always that _something_ about Yamato’s exterior appearance. A bit androgynous-looking is the term, probably? Effeminate from certain angels? He’s male enough for sure but it’s not so farfetched to see where he could be mistaken for a member of the fairer sex under some circumstances.

 

A hint of suspicion flickered on Yamato’s face – probably expecting some form of grief from Taichi about this get-up.

 

Once he realised Taichi wasn’t going to give it to him, however, he mirrored Taichi’s expression, still supernaturally red. “Thanks...”

 

To give the final blow and normalize the situation, Taichi nodded to the sizable batch of shopping bags each of the Chosen present were packing. “And what did you guys get?”

 

“Oh, these are all for Yamato,” Mimi volunteered and was 100% straight-faced when she continued, “Sora got him clothes, Takeru handled the shoes, Hikari hit the beauty department with Tailmon to get him a perfume and a mascara while I – “her cattish grin broadened over her incisors when she pulled at a  satin string from an opaque, black bag, “handled the lingerie.”  

                                                                                                                                                           

Taichi would have given a closer inspection to the goods in that particular bag but alas –

 

“E-excuse me?” a mellow, male voice barged in.

 

The group turned around and found a mid-twenties, unremarkable man dressed in a corporate drone suit, who was giving Yamato a long, proper once over, toes to “tits”. Instinctively, Taichi wrapped an arm around Yamato’s waist and pulled him almost into his armpit.

 

Yamato was drilling a hole into Taichi’s skull with his ‘what-the-actual-fuck?!’ expression, but Taichi ignored it.

 

Barring murder, rape and genocide, Taichi will support anything and everything Yamato decided perusing. Other felonies will simply be made a point of debate. As the resident heterosexual male in the group however, Taichi knew exactly what this bloke was seeing when he was looking at Yamato.

 

What Mimi and Sora chose for him, that blasted micro-skirt and skin-tight, off-shoulder jumper, were both shamelessly revealing _and_ covering Yamato in all the right ways. They’d put his milky shoulders and collarbones on full display, but left everything else for the imagination. Manipulative shit like this drove men insane. Then the girls went on and put him in thigh high stockings to create the Absolute Territory effect – a decision which pretty much handed the killing blow. Yamato was the epitome of anything anyone ever wanted to bend over.

 

So here was Taichi, acting like his best-friend’s possessive boyfriend to shoo away other male presence. He may as well take a piss on his left leg while they were at it and then hump it.

 

In a rare instance of prioritising his peace and quiet over his manly pride, Yamato dug his chin into Taichi’s shoulder.

 

Taichi’s nostrils almost exploded under the heavy scents of perfume and shampoo which loaded them. He tried not to smile. Despite not being one for public affection, Yamato buried his face in the crook of Taichi’s neck like a shy child would, complementing Taichi’s game. Leave it to Yamato to always understand where Taichi was going and act. Taichi never imagined it would be required within this particular framework – but life is nothing if not unexpected. It would have made Taichi happier, though, if it weren’t for the vibrations emanating from Yamato’s body on account of it being so bloody tense.

 

The man shifted from looking at Yamato to Taichi to Yamato to Taichi to Yamato to finally Taichi, coming to terms with the fact he was not taking a red-hot bombshell home tonight torturously slow. “Oh… could you please tell me what time it is?” He fibbed in an attempt to salvage his dignity.

 

Takeru lifted his wrist and checked his Swatch. “Half six.”

 

The man thanked him and scurried away as if someone set his rectum on fire, trying to make himself disappear. 

 

When the premises cleared out, Yamato detached himself from the enclosure of Taichi’s arm and – abra kadabra – he was the same Yamato he’d always been: difficult.

 

As long as Taichi didn’t look down, at least.

 

“Much obliged, mate,” Yamato said, “these ponces been jumping me all bloody morning. Who knew ri-man had it in them.”

 

“You defy years of Japanese culture and social standards.”

 

“Bugger off, Taichi…”

 

“Come now, _sister,”_ Takeru piped in, “that is no way for a lady to speak.”

 

No one could hold in their laughter. The gang rolled around Yamato with their mouths splitting their faces while he crossed his arms and waited for them to finish.

 

Wiping the delicious tears of schadenfreude, Taichi yanked the shopping bag from Takeru’s hand and proceeded to relieve Mimi, Sora and Hikari from theirs. He stacked them all on his forearm and threw his free arm over Yamato’s exposed shoulders. “Let’s get some grub. I need to hear the full story.”

 

Yamato considered grabbing Taichi’s arm, twisting it in an unnatural angel, and dislocating his elbow, but there was this huge advantage to hanging off Taichi’s arm: moving without having business cards shoved into his hands or the horny mugs of teenagers popping under his nose to try and chat him up for his number.   

 

Taichi stirred them to Tully’s Coffee – so he’d have a good view of the mega-sized Gundam statue, obviously.  But the way there – wow! Never in his life had Taichi received so much attention. Not when he scored the winning goal in the football championship last year and not even when he was fighting off monsters who shared their magnitudes with skyscrapers in the middle of the sky. Everywhere he went, eyes followed like the X-ray machines in airports. All of them asking: who are they? Where did they come from? Who is _that_ girl?

 

Men from at least five decades across were eyeballing Taichi, trying to figure out what was so goddamn good about him, and girls were completely taking a skeet at him on all sides. He was pretty sure one of them ogled his butt!

 

It didn’t take him long to figure out why. With his arm around Yamato while he was also carrying his bags, to everyone looking at them, he was the boyfriend of the prettiest, most popular girl in Odaiba, if not Tokyo. Girls wanted to be with him – guys wanted to beat the crap out of him.

 

He held Yamato tighter and Yamato let him.

 

Then, Taichi was suddenly becoming aware Yamato’s shoulders were bare under his fingers. Bare and smooth.

 

By any means, this was _not_ the first time he and Yamato were sharing small touches. Not even skin to skin ones. Or sometimes Taichi’ll try dodging Yamato’s fist after he poked him hard enough and they’ll end up on top of each other. But it was the first time he was conscious of the intricacies of the body he was touching.

 

Yamato didn’t miss having eyes scanning his form, and almost shrunk under the weight of Taichi’s arm on his shoulders. Taichi stopped being his arsehole of a best friend who pissed him off, and became a familiar, warm presence that didn’t try getting under his skirt. It’d been only half a day since he and Mimi had that… whatever it was that wasn’t a bet, and he already wanted to close shop and go home. Not that’ll he give her the satisfaction.

 

He simply didn’t expect the masses of spotlight. It wasn’t at all like rocking a smashing gig on stage and then having his fans stalk him behind the scenes. Then he felt detached. Now – all the eyes on him were _personal_. 

 

At the coffee shop, Yamato left Taichi to watch over their possessions while he picked himself a quiche Lorraine and got Taichi his favourite Ball Park Dog and Caramel Choco Cream Squaral. They scooted into one of the bright blue sofas that lined Tully’s eastern wall and Taichi dropped Yamato’s bags over the armrest. 

 

“Cheers,” Taichi passed Yamato a few crumpled notes to pay him back for his share of the food and found himself grinning like a right bastard at his caramelized beverage. The barista slipped two straws instead of one into the glass – one for him and one for his “cute _girlfriend”._  He watched Yamato pink-ing-it-up around his cheeks upon deducing the same conclusion, and fixing his eyes on the food impaled on his fork. Taichi avoided telling him it only made him look even more dolled-up.  Coy – _coy_ was the word.

 

Instead, he decided it was a good a time as any to address the gender-bent elephant in the room. “So… you’re a femboy now?”

 

 His shin got kicked under the table.

 

That son of a-! There were _heels_ down there! Yamato was wearing _heels_! He kicked him with _heels_ , that fucker!

 

Taichi bit his lips to hold in the whimper which tried breaking through and glared at Yamato, who in turn was gauging the results of his handiwork from the edge of his eye.

 

“I didn’t mean it’s a bad thing! Fuck, Yamato…” Taichi ground out through his clenched teeth while messaging the pain from the bloody _stab_ wounds away.

 

Yamato swallowed the piece of pasty like this was none of his buissness, but then he sighed. “Only for a month.”

 

Curiosity winning over vengeful intentions, Taichi stopped rubbing his sore calf and raised an eyebrow at the statement. “Why?”  

 

“It’s a long story, but it went something like this…”

 

***

 

_“… And what about Lise Meitner, huh?_ She _was the one who suggested the splitting atoms theory and she was half the team that discovered the reason why no stable elements existed beyond Uranuim. Where is her Nobel Prize for nuclear fission?! Or Rosalind Franklin who had picture 51 fucking stolen from her?! ” Mimi slammed her coffee mug on the table, splashing brown puddles all around it._

_“Calm down Mimi,” Sora reprimanded and picked up her napkin to clean Mimi’s messy pool, “don’t create unnecessary work for the waiters.”_

_Yamato sighed around his own hot mug and exhaled the vapour, “I’ll give you Franklin, but Lise Meitner didn’t get the Nobel Prize because she was a Jew who escaped Nazi Germany, not because she was a woman. The Nobel committee had political restraints.”_

_“That is one version of it, but the article by Sime and Crawford only stated the committee wasn’t willing to judge her work fairly, not why.”_

_“If it’s a sex-based bias, than how come Marie Curie was the first person to win the Nobel Prize – twice – despite her affair with her husband’s student? And you’re talking as if Ada Yonath didn’t get a Nobel Prize literally a couple of months ago.”_

_“Marie Curie didn’t have to face post-WW2 Europe. War and stressful eras makes people resort to their familiar environments, which, for a bunch of old men will be other old men. And Ada Yonath had to break some serious skulls before anyone believed her.”_

_Spitting the chunks of ground black coffee from his teeth, Yamato answered, “Alright, assuming that your reasoning is solid, that doesn’t mean that’s what going to happen to you if you go work in that lab. These are the two thousands in Japan, not bloody WW2 Europe.”_

_Mimi scoffed some more and gave him the stink eye, “Oh, tosh! Before Haruko Obokata’s fraud was discovered, all the media could talk about was her looks and her ‘feminine charms’. Do you think that would have ever happened if she were a man? Tokyo Medical University deliberately added points to male examinees to keep women’s admission under 30%. And do you know females scientists in Japan are still expected to keep their mouths shut when there is a man in the room, even if they are exactly on the same skill-level? Why do you think they make up only 10% of the researchers here, but account for 60% of Japanese researchers abroad? Because it’s shit work for females here. Because women are still expected to be baby-making machines and drop their careers the moment they get pregnant. And god forbid if you are an opinionated woman here. It’s not ‘cute’ enough, right?!”_

_She huffed the last line and begrudgingly finished her coffee while trying to burn down the Geranium bush on her right with her livid stare._

_“Yes, the administrative board in Tokoyo Medical uni are turds, but the ministry of education investigated that immediately and the outrage was all over the country. Then, you also have Ladies Day on Wednesdays, your very own cart on trains and you don’t have the same expectations men have.” Yamato plucked the last grain which was stuck to his tooth. “Do you think me or Taichi could get away with marrying some minted Ojosama and taking care of the house? Well,_ you _can. We are, supposedly, meant to protect the house and bring in the money even if that’s not what we want to do and god forbids we’ll show any more emotions than a robot while we do it. You know what the suicide rates in Japan? 70 people per day. And do you know how many of them were men? Seventy one percent. Seventy one percent, Mimi. Seventy_ fucking _one percent! That means that while being part of the workforce, I, Taichi, Jyou, Koushiro, Takeru, or any other male of your choosing have a 49 percent chance of committing suicide – per day! ”_

_It took a while for Mimi to turn back and look at him, but she had to articulate herself before she laid out her argument. “Three things: first, even discrimination that’s in my favour is still discrimination and I don’t want that. I don’t even go to clubs that do girl-only free admission. Second, we have our own train carts because instead of educating men and teaching them they shouldn’t harass women on trains, the government thinks it’s better to accept that ‘boys will be boys’ and put women in a cage instead while telling them they shouldn’t make a scene. A pink cage – you know, because obviously the spectrum of the visible light has something to do with my genitalia, right?! And speaking of my genitalia and trains, how is it perfectly all right for advertisement to be fully pornographic and anime pre-teen girls have their knickers splayed all over the cart window, but Megumi Igarashi is going to jail because she sculpted vaginas… while we have a fucking penis festival?!” She spat, “And Third, yes – you are right. Women don’t have the same social expectations as men, but it’s not because someone decided we deserve a vacation. It’s because someone decided we are not good enough to live up to anything significant beyond taking care of children – which may be equally significant, but not every woman want to have that as her ultimate goal in life.  The fact still remains that a woman has to work twice as hard to get half the respect. And when a female finally does reach higher ranks in a given company, she is called a bitch whereas a man who behaves the same way is called ‘assertive’.” Mimi took a long, deep breath. “But you’re right. Discrimination and sex-based stereotypes hurts everyone – men and women alike. We should move on from that already as a society.”_

_Yamato was about to say something, but Sora finally snapped. “Bloody hell, will the two of you shut up already?! God…” she leaned her chin on the root of her hand and stared down at her cup, which was still almost entirely full of and likely cold by now._

_Both Mimi and Yamato exchanged equally oblivious looks that agreed upon a truce before turning to Sora. Mimi put one, manicured hand on Sora’s forearm and asked, “Sora, luv, is everything alright?”_

_Sora turned back to her, sporting an apologetic smile, and put her own hand on top of Mimi’s. “I’m fine, Meems. I’m sorry I yelled.”_

_Mimi checked up on Yamato again, but when she saw that vacant, and just a bit lost, expression on his face, she demonstratively gave up on him._

_“You are not fine.”_

_“It’s alright, Mimi. It’s nothing.”_

_“Get off it. It’s not like you to go off,” Yamato interfered, catching up with Mimi._

_Sora sighed and stirred her Macchiato with no real goal in mind other than to fidget. “I don’t want to burden you, guys.”_

_“You are not burdening us!” Mimi jumped on her and caged Sora in a bear hug of limbs and boobs._

_Yamato leaned back in his chair and checked his wallet for change. “Mimi, if she doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to.”_

_“Thanks.” Sora smiled and wasn’t exclusive about whom she was smiling at. “It’s just… I have a problem with my boss.”_

_Mimi’s brow scrunched. “Your boss? I thought you loved her.”_

_“I love the_ head designer _. She owns the label and she’s the one who hired me, but my direct boss is one of the designers I’m assisting and… I don’t know… he’s just weird.”_

_“How is he weird, Sora?” Yamato dug his nails into his fist and ended up coming off so much more aggressive than Sora needed at the moment. But if he got what she was getting at, he’d have no moral inhibitions stopping him from stomping over to her work place, dragging that bloke from out of his hole, putting his mouth on a curb and smashing his skull in under his boots._

_Mimi shot him a reprimanding glare and repeated his question – only in the mannerism it should have been asked. “How is he weird?”_

_Sora’s eyes were fixed on her lap. She didn’t answer right away. “It’s like…” she poked out her tongue and swiped it along her dried lips, lubricating them, “every time I work after hours or just when he catches me alone he’ll get very… physical. He puts his arm over my shoulder all the time. Sometimes he touches my arm, or he’ll reach over to something on my side of the table and his hand will accidently touch my… breast,” she wriggled in her seat, “at first I thought he’s just being too friendly and has no concept of personal space, but when I told him it’s uncomfortable for me, he just said that that’s his personality and that I’m too uptight. And yesterday I wore that top we got last week, Mimi, and he said it makes my ‘tits’ look really big! I was shocked. I couldn’t even talk and I just walked away. At lunch, I found him and told him I felt he shouldn’t have said that, but he just answered that it’s the fashion industry and that I should expect comments about my clothing.” Sora planted her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. “He also reminded me there are a million girls who would die for my job and that I can be replaced_ that _easily,” she snapped her fingers. “I just don’t know what to do.”_

_Mimi rubbed circles into Sora’s upper back and asked, “did you tell Jyou about it?”_

_Sora shook her head. “He has so much on his head right now at the hospital. I don’t want to make him worry any more than he has to. I just feel so ashamed, Mimi. I am one of the Chosen Children and I can’t even stand up to one creep?”_

_Yamato made a loud ‘clang’ with his chair when he shot up and came to Sora’s other side. He looked up the time on his phone and then placed his hand on Sora’s shoulder. “I can get Taichi here in less than twenty minutes. You tell us where that cum-stain is and we’ll feed him his bollocks through a straw.”_

_Sora smiled faintly at the threat. “I appreciate the thought, Yamato, but I don’t think being an accessory to murder will look good on my resume.”_

_“Did you tell the head designer, then?” Mimi asked, retrieving the conversation back into legal lines._

_Sora shrugged and when her shoulders dropped down,  they took her entire body with them. “Why would she take my word over his? He’s been working for her ages before I showed up there. For all she knows, I could just be trying to extort money out of him or take revenge on him by hurting his reputation. And what if I’ll be labelled as a trouble-maker? The fashion industry is all about reputation. I can’t do that…”_

_***_

“…I guess I was just reminded that you can’t tell what someone is going through until you walked in their shoes, you get me?” Yamato’s eyes briefly sidled to the goggles hanging from Taichi’s neck and for a moment, he was in some other place and some other time, remembering sadder things. “And Mimi agreed that if I could live like a girl for an entire month, she’ll go and try to land that job in the lab. It also gave Sora something to be distracted about and made her all chuffed again. Pass me the pepper -”

Taichi looked around for the small baggies of pepper and reckoned he knew exactly how to fix Yamato and correct his little mood swing from just now. Get him prim and proper again – yes! It’s not as if Taichi needed him to tell him what he was thinking. Yamato didn’t need to tell him anything. Taichi will simply know, and if the tables were turned, Yamato’d know what Taichi had on his mind just the same. That was how they did things.

 

Taichi filled a fist with the small packages and meshed them with his fingers till all the pepper spilled out. Suspicious, Yamato shot him an ‘I fucking dare you’ look.

 

“It annoys you,” Taichi’s shit of a face grinned, answering the unspoken threat, “so I have to do it.” Taichi never wanted Yamato to be depressed or in any way unhappy, but it was hella-fun to watch him become frustrated or irritated. Or both. Yamato had the best expressions. 

 

Satisfied with his results and dodging Yamato’s attempt to clock him, Taichi diverted the conversation to what he’s been _really_ gagging to know. “Did you actually shave your legs?” and he was genuinely surprised when Yamato’s outside shade didn’t match his inside’s then and there.

 

But Yamato didn’t think too much of it, actually. “Well, yeah… more than my legs. Sora had me do something called ‘perianal deep wax’. My baby-soft arsehole is like a three-year old’s and I feel like a bloody porn star.”

 

Taichi nodded to everything Yamato said, somewhere on the spectrum between amazed and blissed out. “Two questions: one, why do you know how the arsehole of a three-year old even looks like and two, how _does_ a porn star feel?”

 

Yamato glared at him and the longer he glared, the redder his face got. “You’re not funny, Taichi!”

 

Taichi ignored that as his gaze lingered on the _long,_ milky expense which comprised Yamato’s exceptional legs. “Can I touch?”

 

There it was! That deep, dark shade of crimson Taichi had only ever seen Yamato’s cheeks produce! That colour should have its own name already. At Yamato’s expression, Taichi quickly added, “only the legs!” but his eyes were still firmly fixed on those pretty, exposed things of Yama’s. 

 

“Piss off!”

 

“ _Please?”_ Taichi stuck out his lower lip, in that way he knew will do dubstep on all of Yamato’s nerves, but will also mysteriously appeal to what little, latent maternal instincts he had. “It’s not like I’m trying to feel you up, mate. I’ve been having shaving my chest hair on my mind for a few days now, and I reckon this is a good chance to sample the service. I don’t want someone’s bodged job on me.” 

 

Yamato’s eyes reduced to feral slits. “Why do _you_ want to remove your chest hair?”

 

“Girls love it,” Taichi answered. “Why did _you_ let Sora and Mimi wax you?”

 

Yamato rolled one shoulder, signalling his indifference. “Mimi was actually against it at first because not all girls shave and that it’s not a universally ‘girl’ thing, but Sora said that, unlike Mimi, the average, non-opinionated girl is more susceptible to beauty standards and what society thinks about her. Since, despite what tabloid press will have you believe, girls are all different sorts of humans – _but_ we had to start _somewhere,_ we ended up going for the lowest common denominator.  So… ‘off with my pubes!’ it was. And the rest as well.”

 

“You can wear it,” Taichi said while surveying the few creamy centimetres Yamato’s skirt exposed when it rode up into his thighs as he crossed his legs, “I’ll give you that. You are a specimen suitable for anything the fashion industry can throw at you.”

 

“Thanks…” Yamato brushed some renegade hairs behind his ear. “These bloody shoes, though, are brutal. They’re like sadistic fetish tools, I _swear_. Why do women do this to themselves?!”

 

For a brief few, Taichi blankly stared at some idiosyncratic spot in space, as though Yamato’s complaint had shut him down. Then, after looking like he made a secret decision, Taichi grabbed one of Yamato’s ankles and hoisted it over his knees.

 

“What the-!“

 

“Come here,” Taichi cut Yamato off before he made a scene and pulled him closer till he was almost sitting in Taichi’s lap. He snaked his hand up Yamato’s shin and began massaging the flesh there by digging the pillows of his fingers into it with firm, but careful, squeezing motions. “I do this for Hikari all the time when she gets home from parties with cramps from her heels. Tell Takeru to get you flats. These things are really bad for you, you know? Heels can cause permanent damage to your calf muscles, lower back and the bones of your feet.”

 

Yamato gave him a flat and idiotic look – dumbfounded, and completely forgetting their current position. “Why do you even know all of this?” 

 

“Because I have a younger sister to look after.” A smile bubbled on Taichi’s face, chalk-full with brotherly pride. “Better?”

 

“What-” Yamato stopped himself and processed the question. Also – yes, yes his calf was indeed faring better.

 

“Yes… thank you…”

 

Taichi didn’t say anything more and instead continued to diligently knead the back of Yamato’s legs.

 

Whatever space was left by the pain that left Yamato’s body was replaced by the exhaustion which accumulated since this morning and had finally sunk in.

 

Suddenly, these cheap, mass-produced cushions were the lap of luxury and Yamato’s head was heavier than all the bags he’d been forced to carry around combined. With a soft ‘thump’ he dropped on something warm and manageably soft.  He was already halfway to a fantastic dream land that’s been tripping balls for seemingly a decade, when he heard Taichi chuckle near his ear – yet from planets far, far away. “You even smell like one of them…” he said and gently buried his nose in Yamato’s hair. 

 

Yamato vaguely acknowledged it was Taichi’s shoulder his head landed on, but didn’t do anything other than hum unintelligibly to signify he was both alive _and_ really wanted Taichi to put a sock in it and shut his mush.

 

“So can I?”

 

“Ammm? What…?” Yamato slurred, trying to grasp at consciousness and make sense of what Taichi was asking him.

 

“Touch…?” Taichi’s fingers skidded upwards till they were right under Yamato’s bent knee, edging into his thighs.

 

Right. That’s what they were doing. Yamato still wasn’t sure how he perceived the notion, but since his legs were already in Taichi’s lap, it became one of those ‘since we’re already naked’ moments.

 

“Do whatever you fucking want…” He mumbled while he figured he may as well try doze off some more. To tell the truth, he didn’t want Taichi to stop, but he didn’t want to tell him that. If Yamato could just put a mental brown bag on Taichi’s face and imagine the hand on his thigh belonged to a sexy, beefy, anonymous bum, it’ll be mint. Taichi was carefully and painfully reminding him that feeling rough, manly hands getting in between his legs was sorely needed for him. 

 

It’s not that Taichi wasn’t a major babe, but that was another thing Yamato wasn’t ready to tell him. 

 

Yamato sunk into the pillows till he was almost lying down and left Taichi to it. He registered Taichi skirting the hem of his sock, hesitantly at first, but after a few seconds he finally took a shot at bare skin at the risk of being socked.

 

And then came the feeling of his skirt lifting as Taichi’s fingers slid further up.

 

All right, this was nicely sexy. Yamato hadn’t had someone make him feel like this for what was probably a decade with a forever on the side. He couldn’t help himself from immersing in the sensation and loving it too much. He kinda reckoned that if his attic region had been any clearer, he’d feed Taichi a fist of fives. But then again, if it were, he probably wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ to him either. So here’s for fabled bad decisions and feigned ignorance – Yamato intended to make the best out of this body-snatchers scenario.

 

Taichi decided the salon did a fine job and that Yamato had fantastically smooth skin. Now, if only he could rid himself of this feeling of being gawked at, he’d be golden.

 

The corner of his eye spotted the lot of his fellow footballers standing in line in front of the clerk while eyeing the scene they walked in on, some with their thumbs raised up. Namely, they bargained for washing their mouths with coffee to ease down the plastic cheese they chewed on earlier, and found their captain feeling up a half-passed out girl. 

 

This day will forever be remembered as the day Taichi died a bit inside.

 

When Taichi went off-rhythm, Yamato carefully peeked from under a chink of an opening in his eyelid. He regretted it mighty fast. Some bloke with a Buzz cut was leering at him and it completely skeezed him out.

 

Having that said, this was also the first perk Yamato found to his new role as a “girl”: social acceptance.

 

This warm welcome would have turned sour mighty fast if anyone discovered the dick under this skirt. Some self-important glares and what have you – though those will be the least of their problems.

 

Taichi nodded at his mates, particularly at Kenji who had a knack for understanding subtle hints, super-implying he’d really, _really_ appreciate to be left alone with his new “boo”.

 

Lucky for him, Kenji picked up on it. The tall footballer got Ryo to help him carry everyone’s disposable cups and goaded the group out with promises of a 54’ telly in the local pub and Ryoichi Maeda’s sweet, _sweet_ goals.

 

A thought. “Yamato, what happens if a guy asks you out?”

 

“Is he cute?”

 

“Say he is.”

 

“I go out with him.”

 

“Like this?”

 

“Like this.”

 

“What happens if he wants to go to bed with you?”

                                                                                     

“Assuming he’s not into pegging, but still into penetrative sex – I’ll have to bottom.”

 

Taichi stared at him for a moment. “Most blokes aren’t all right with discovering their girl is another bloke, you know.”

 

“Most blokes haven’t met me,” Yamato ceded a tired grin but returned to his natural, serious-self fast enough. “To be real though, yes, I’ll tell him if it comes to it.”

 

“Lucky guy,” Taichi mumbled and Yamato wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or if he was being honest.

 

Taichi extracted his phone from his back pocket and checked the big, white digits presenting the hour on it in. “Got any leftovers?” he glimpsed at the quarter-quiche and sides cooling on Yamato’s plate and before getting an answer – “Let’s bring Agu and Gabu some takeaway.”

 

Yamato had the barista put the food in small containers while Taichi was making a call.

 

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Taichi grunted at his speaker, waiting for Hikari to answer the bloody phone their parents sponsored. Four rings. Five rings. “Fucking bloody hell…” Six rings and “Taichi?” a feline voice answered from the other side of the line. 

 

“Tailmon, where are you?”

 

“Inside Hikari’s purse.”

 

Taichi waited for a second, processing. Processing. All right – “and where _is_ Hikari’s purse?”

 

“Wait, I’ll ask her.”

 

There was rustling in the background along with plastics and metals clanking against each other until a zip whooshed by.  A few muffled voices were speaking and Hikari _finally_ did him the honours of picking up.

 

“Yes, brother?”

 

“Want a ride? I got the car today, so we’ll just drop Yamato off and be home in 10.”

 

“Aw, that’ll be brilliant! Near the elevator in 15? I need to pay for these first.”

 

“See you there.”

 

***

 

“They looked… good together,” Mimi observed and Sora nodded when Taichi and Yamato walked towards the lift on the floor below.

 


	2. Rooftops and Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love writing domestic scenes ^^

“So how’s it been? How are you feeling?” Mimi asked while Yamato was escorting her to a brunch for some reason which wasn’t really clear to him.

 

Yamato shrugged. “Nothing much. Yesterday I was washing the house and making food for the week and the day before I was swotting over a hand-in.  The opportunity to flaunt my feminine assets hasn’t particularly cropped up.”

 

Mimi sniggered. “Well, aren’t you a right boffin?”

 

“Piss off, Meems…”

 

Mimi was about to come up with a fresh comeback, just to piss Yamato off a bit – because, god, that’s always a worthy entertainment – when a painfully conspicuous, mind-grinding whistling cut off her train of thought. It was followed by, “make a twirl, pretty girls! I’d love to take a ride on your-”

 

“Catcalls? That’s _so_ a millennium ago.” Mimi tossed her hair over her shoulder, grabbed Yamato’s wrist, who was glaring at the man like he was about to set him on fire, and dragged him away. A few metres up ahead, she started laughing wildly and slapped Yamato’s shoulder while she was at it.

 

“Congratulations! Your first encounter with an illiterate arsehole!”

 

Yamato yanked his wrist away from the grip of her polished nails and was about to turn back. “I’m going to reshape his face into an arse and make him shit from his mouth…”

 

But Mimi grabbed him again, proficiently and without a fuss, as though she had done this a hundred times before and was perfectly trained at handling the situation. “Drop it. For all I care, he can go kiss my aerobicized arse.”

 

With the way he looked at her, she clearly delivered him a proverbial kick to the balls. “You telling me you’re letting him off?! Are you fucking serious?!”

 

Mimi huffed. “This is not NYC, Yamato. You don’t want to cause a scene.”

 

They argued. Mimi won. Yamato was sore about it for the next hour or so.

 

“My parents want us to go to Aruba this summer,” Mimi said over her straw, gulping down her almond milk-based health-slushy, “so I think I’ll get one of those self-tanning tubes, you get me? I don’t want to look like an utter priss.”

 

Yamato rolled his eyes. “Please don’t get a fake tan, Mimi. A person’s skin colour should _not_ come out of a bottle. And, you won’t look tan. You’ll be more orange than Agumon.”

 

Mimi was about to come up with a snappy retort when the vibrations from Yamato’s phone distracted them both.

 

“How are you, blud?” Taichi’s deep baritone rumbled into the phone line.

 

“Safe. You?”

 

“Nothing much. Mooching about. I have two questions for you.”

 

“Cheers.”

 

“One: I want to watch the new Iron Man. You in on it?”

 

Yamato peeped at his watch – the rose gold one Mimi let him borrow. He reckoned they’d finish here in about an hour and that should leave him plenty of time to go change and meet Taichi at the cinema.

 

“All right, sure. What’s the second question?”

 

“Mmmm…” Yamato heard Taichi shifting ears, “it’s a bit weird.”

 

“Spit it out.”

 

He seriously doubted anything Taichi would say could be any weirder than anything they’d encountered in the Digital World.

 

Taichi stifled a laugh across the line and Yamato had a picture-perfect image of the stupid face Taichi was inevitably making. “All right, my football team’s annual field trip is in two weeks. We planned on having the first night at _Kanagawa Prefecture and the second day near the Ochizawa Youth Centre. We won't actually sleep in the camp, but more around the same section of the river. It’s-“_

_“Go on with it, Taichi,” Yamato ground out. What the fuck did Yamato need Taichi’s itinerary for?! Did he make him his emergency contact or some other lethal mistake of a sort?_

_“Get the twist out of your new lacy knickers, Yamato, I’m getting to it,” Taichi paused to cough into his fist, “So this year, everyone are bringing their girlfriends and they’re inviting you to join. I just called in to check if you’ll be in on it?”_

 

“What on earth do I have to do with your football mates?”

 

“They think you’re my girlfriend.”

 

This one line was not weirder than anything they’d encountered in the digital world, but Taichi should pray they won’t have any new shenanigans there in the near future.

 

After a silent pause – “And why would they think that… Taichi?” Every syllable Yamato used was cold, calm and excessively murderous – something which Taichi was unfazed by entirely after this many years of friendship with the git.

 

“Because they were with me that day at the DiverCity.”

 

Yamato needed a moment.

 

“Fuck no, Taichi!”

 

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t. I’ll see you in a few, then,” and he hung up.

 

Yamato slammed his phone on the table and folded his arms over his chest as he threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, silently seething. He only looked angry on the outside – on the inside, he was much angrier.

 

Mimi raised one perfectly sculpted, trimmed, and done eyebrow at the baby-like outburst. “What happened?”

 

Yamato sat tight lipped for at least one more minute after she asked. He wasn’t even sure why this was bothering him so much. In either case, he didn’t want to snap at Mimi. Eventually – “Taichi invited me to his football team’s fieldtrip.”

 

Mimi’s second eyebrow joined the first. “And you really, really, _really_ hate fieldtrips?”

 

“It’s not that,” his royally pissed off-self dropped a few notches of piss-off-ery from his tone, but not his arms – so his fingers tinkered with the flash of his elbow. “I’m only invited because his mates think I’m his girlfriend.”

 

“Then you _have_ to go.”

 

Yamato jerked his face in her direction – finally – and stared at her with blatant disbelief. It actually took him a few seconds where he opened and closed his mouth like a bloody guppy before he talked.

 

“And why exactly do I have to do that?”

 

Mimi huffed. “Why do you think?” She emphasised the ‘think’ hard, with her tongue between her teeth, as if goading Yamato to do just that and apply ‘think’. “If they know you as his girlfriend, then wouldn’t you say it’d be very impolite of you to refuse this invitation? Taichi is the captain of the team. How do you think it will reflect on him if his girlfriend doesn’t want to be with him for something this important? Don’t you dare skive off this. If you don’t go, Yamato, our agreement is off.”

 

Yamato was about to argue – but then he didn’t. While on the phone, he got too livid to consider the whole affair from this angle. Sure, he and Taichi made a hobby out of pissing each other off and getting rough, but the last thing Yamato wanted was to give Taichi grief.

 

“This is not fair…” 

 

Mimi smiled at him, compassionately and a bit sadly. “ _Now_ you start sounding like a real girl.”

 

“Fine…” Yamato sighed and hated himself for sounding so pathetic, “we’re meeting at four so I’ll tell him I changed my mind or something.”

 

“Ooooh!” Mimi lit up faster than Agumon at the prospect of a food stand – which was VERY impressive. “A date?! We should get you something cute to wear!”

 

Yamato started regretting letting words out of his juke box anywhere near Mimi’s radius. Somehow, he was on the verge of feeling very Claustrophobic around her. “What are you _on_ about? We check out the new releases every month.”

 

Mimi dismissively waved her index finger in his face. “But that’s not what the world is going to see, now, is it?”

 

And so she won again, and twenty minutes before he was supposed to meet up with Taichi, Yamato was performing gymnastics on his bed to try and fit into a pair of black stockings and what Mimi referred to as “Daisy Dukes”.

 

He fit all right, but they were an unbelievably tight squeeze.

 

To avoid getting in late to the 15 minute run of commercials, promos, and new trailers Taichi loved almost more than the films themselves, Yamato took out the Vespa. He got to the cinema just in time to find Taichi buying them snacks.

 

Instantly, Yamato noticed Taichi was wearing one of his only pairs of jeans. The good pair. The one that sculpted his arse into a firm, rounded bubble butt – and they both knew it did that. Yamato discretely snuck a bit of _appreciation_ to the area where said jeans cast this magical effect before coming over to share the load of carrying a pile of junk food.

 

One look at Yamato made Taichi very pleased. By both of them, honestly. Pleased at himself for being a brilliant bastard who primped some before exiting the house, and by Yamato for… _damn…_ really.

 

Taichi wanted to look good for Yamato. He wanted to look sexy. It’s funny he never cared so much about this kind of rubbish when he dated girls but, for whatever reason he didn’t fancy analysing right now, this was different. Maybe because with Yamato hanging off his shoulder and looking like he did, Taichi had some standards to live up to. He didn’t want to look less good than Yamato and, fuck, Yamato was a hard act to compare to even when that bastard pretty-boy _didn’t_ try. Taichi also didn’t want people to wonder what such a pretty girl is doing with a lousy slacker.

“Brilliant timing, blud,” he said when Yamato saved a churrito from plummeting into its demise from over Taichi’s elbow, “but I need you to go and get the tickets. Take 2000 yen from my pocket.”

Yamato quickly did the maths and scrunched his face. “I need 3600. A single ticket is 1800.”

Taichi grinned and left Yamato to understand all by himself.  Watching him go through all stages of comprehension was righteous fun.

“Did you want to go with me today because it’s Wednesday’s Ladies Night Out, Taichi?”

Taichi nodded, still goofily smiling at him.

Resisting the aching urge to clock Taichi cost Yamato some physical pain, but, admittedly, it was a solid idea and he couldn’t fault Taichi for wanting to save a few notes. Ergo, Yamato begrudgingly trudged to the ticket line and left it at that.  Really – only Taichi.

Taichi watched him go. Then he watched him come back. Yamato was worth watching. Today, Yamato adopted a Korean Kpop-star style – microscopic shorts paired with an oversized t shirt. He also threw in a long necklace which disappeared deep under his shirt… a lot… along with silky, black stockings.

Taichi took a sip from his icy coke. “Not that you don’t look absolutely fantastic in it, mate, but how can you wear these things?” he asked and pointed at Yamato’s shorts.

 

Yamato shrugged noncommittedly. “I’m tucking my testes and dick.”

 

From Taichi’s expression, Yamato reckoned his explanation may as well been conducted in utter gibberish.

 

“It’s… ammm…” Yamato tried again – with hands this time – feeling more awkward at every passing second. “You just…” fingers bent, he moved his wrist down so it drew a crescent in the air in an attempt to demonstrate, “you put your penis behind and between your legs so it just… it sort of stays there and it looks like you don’t have one.”

 

Taichi’s eyes went huge. “You can do that?!”

 

“Fuck, Taichi, shut your trap! Don’t shout it…” Yamato did a quick 360 around the room, making sure their charade game had no spectators, “and yes. You just need to tuck your bollocks. Your body does it naturally when you’re having really hardcore sex or when you’re cold.  I just lie on my back and push the balls up. Then I sorta…” he demonstrated the hand motion again, “… shove the penis back between them. I know some people use duct tape, but if you do that you can’t take a piss.”

 

Surprise morphed into wonderment on Taichi’s face. “Where did you even learn to do that?”

 

“Mimi has a drag queen friend in New York, so he skyped me through it,” Yamato explained simply. That was a much easier explanation to execute.

 

“Can I do that? Does it hurt?”

 

“I think everyone can do that? It doesn’t really hurt if you do it right, but it’s a bit weird at first and takes some time getting used to.”

 

And that was the last thing they got a chance to say before the usher stabbed their tickets.

 

***

 

It was their standard film experience. They were sitting as far in the back as was possible so they could openly howl at the excessive action scenes and at the flimsy attempts to evoke anything resembling a serious drama. And also so Yamato could put his feet on the seat in front of him without some bloke giving him grief for it. Every few minutes he nicked a handful of kernels out of Taichi’s popcorn bucket and washed their remains out of his teeth with beer.

 

When the film was done, Taichi stretched to unknot all the cramped muscles he earned during the last two motionless hours. Well, motionless compared to his condensed-energy-in-human-form self. He looked over to his partner in crime. “Fancy getting shaved ice?”

 

Staring at Taichi with avid amazement plastered on his face was just about the only thing Yamato could do. “You had four fifths of the entire snack mass in this building. Did you grow a black hole in your stomach I should be made aware of?”

 

“But Yamato, I’m still a growing boy!” Taichi whined, hitting that tone he knew will piss Yamato off, “and Agumon finished all the food in my house…” he added quietly.

 

Well, it’s not like Yamato had anything _against_ shaved ice. “All right, we can go. Do you want to stop over at my place later and I’ll get us dinner?”

 

Taichi’s eyes plopped out of their sockets in excitement at the mention of dinner. Specifically, Yamato’s dinner.  Taichi nodded frantically. “Yes please!”

 

The next twenty minutes found them tucking their helmets back into the space beneath the Vespa’s seat, and walking along the promenade lining the seashore.

 

“Oi, Taichi, about earlier… I changed my mind.”

 

Two, sad eyes responded to Yamato. “You don’t want to get shaved ice?”

 

“Not that,” Yamato shook his head and met Taichi firmly, determined. “Camping with your football mates – I’ll go.”

 

The brief suspicion Taichi threw his way, using the curl of one of his thick eyebrow, was replaced with a knowing grin. “Mimi set you up for it, ‘in’t she? Don’t worry about it. I know social events aren’t really high on your priority list and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable having to fraternize with people you barely know.” He debated with himself whether or not to say the last thing on his mind and eventually did – “as a girl…”

 

Yamato grabbed Taichi’s upper arm in his fist. “I’m going, Taichi. I may feel intellectually compromised afterwards, but _I am going_.” He turned his head and, for a few moments, stared unblinking and unseeing into an indiscernible distance where the ocean line kissed the pink and violet horizon. “I don’t want to cause you trouble…” he finished, turning back to Taichi.

That only left Taichi with more frustration to work through. “I don’t understand how you’ll be causing me trouble, exactly.”

 

“By making you look bad in front of people who look up to you.” Yamato absolutely refused to believe his life. Trying to _convince_ Taichi to bring him along – beh!

 

Taichi considered deflecting. It didn’t feel right though. Instead, he levelled Yamato’s intense stare with his own. “It’s really important for you isn’t it?”

 

Yamato nodded.

 

“But what do you _want_?”

 

“What do _you_ want, Taichi?”

 

Taichi’s erupting smile was endless softness. “I always love having you, blud. So, yeah, football plus my best friend equals s _mashing_. I just don’t want you-“

 

“Shut your mush, Taichi. I’m going.” Yamato stalked away – no, he _marched_. “Let’s just get you shaved ice…”

 

The booth was only 50 more metres ahead. Taichi got himself a melon flavour while Yamato went for raspberry. Yamato also chanced to feel downright blessed. The owner didn’t strike up a conversation with him today. Maybe he didn’t recognize him. Hopefully, he didn’t.

 

They quietly finished their portions on a bench viewing the sea. Releasing the plastic spoon into his disposable cone, Taichi afforded Yamato another look.

 

Eyes closed, Yamato sucked on his own spoon. The red colouring clung to his lips like tint. For someone who didn’t fancy sweets, he seemed to be relishing the treat. Just looking at the spoon softly popping out of Yamato’s mouth made Taichi want to go and fetch a second serving.

 

“Pardon?”

 

Both Taichi and Yamato turned up their heads to the direction from which a stoic, business-like tone addressed them.

 

A man wearing some sort of sophisticated athletic wear was bowing down in front of Yamato and handing him a business card.

 

Not fully comprehending the situation, Yamato accepted the card with auto-piloted motorics and examined its content.

 

Taichi watched Yamato’s complexion slowly adopting the shade of his shaved ice.

 

Yamato tucked the card in his pocket and nodded curtly at the man.

 

“My company will kindly thank you if you consider referring to us in the future.” The man bowed once again and returned to his jogging.

 

Without wasting a second, Taichi was halfway on Yamato’s lap with his arse, trying to fish out the card from Yamato’s pocket. “What was that about?”

 

Yamato slapped the intruding extremity away, but didn’t push the rest of Taichi off. “He’s from a modelling agency…” Yamato answered, voice hushed into an almost dejected tone.

 

Taichi, on the other hand, had no idea why his mate was acting like it’s _not_ one of the most brilliant opportunities to have ever dropped on him. “That’s wicked! You’ll ace being a model!”

 

“No I won’t! Taichi…” Yamato peeked at the card again, staring at it till the finely printed words lost their meaning. “Even if I wanted to be a glorified clothing hanger – which I don’t – he thinks he’ll be getting a female model…”

 

“So?”

 

Yamato looked at him as though one of the potential aneurysms he may have given Taichi’s head throughout the years had finally completed its evolution into a full-fledged brain damage. “I am _not_ one,” he stretched the ‘not’ to underscoring lengths.

 

“So?” Taichi repeated. “When I helped Sora with the stage building last summer for her runway show, there were more than a few boys who modelled women’s clothing. Sora said that’s an ‘it’ in high fashion. As for the ‘glorified clothing hanger’ part… Look, I don’t think you should be so carefree about turning down a job offer. At least give them a ringer and check what conditions they offer. Believe you me, work is hard to get. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen get one dropped from the sky on, so don’t be a selective arse about it…” He trailed off and placed a hand on Yamato’s shoulder, “and I really think you’ll rock it.”

 

Yamato observed him for a long moment. “You really think that?”

 

“Absolutely, blud!” Taichi slapped Yamato’s back and gave him a moment to recover from the after-effect rattling. “Now take me home and make me real food.”

 

They idly paced the road back to the Vespa, their weight extracting unceremonious creaks from the wooden beams paving the promenade. Yamato watched the thin strip of amber eroding until it diminished beneath the waterline and he counted till it towed its fuchsia and purples along with it, leaving behind a darkening blue. Yamato’s fingers skidded along the rail which separated him from the ledge, knocking on it to the beat of a song only he could hear. The waves which crushed against the rocks below showered him occasionally with their saltwater kisses.

 

“Oh, shit…” 

 

Yamato whirled his head to Taichi, who stopped walking and was just sort of standing in the middle to the road, glaring at something up ahead. No Digimons – that much was good, Yamato noted. How many levels of a tosser will he feel like if on the one day Gabumon isn’t with him, the street goes tits up. 

 

“What’s up?”

 

Taichi scratched the back of his head, moved that same hand across his mouth and growled into it. “Goro Fukuda.”

 

Yamato’s eyebrows sank into a worried V over the bridge of his nose, hoping Taichi didn’t assume he had a built-in search engine. “Who?”

 

“Goro Fukuda,” Taichi took a long, stabilizing breath. “He’s the captain of Hitotsubashi uni’s football team and for some reason he thinks the broomstick wedged inside his rectum is my fault.”

 

Yamato tried overlapping his gaze with wherever direction Taichi was looking at. He spotted two figures growing bigger at the not-very-impressive distance. Without removing his eyes from his find, he asked, “and what? This bloke tried getting aggro with you?”

 

Taichi sort of scoffed, which was very uncharacteristic of him, and it looked bad on his face. He was mostly pissed off though. “More like he’s just sour that I’m a better captain and that our team fucking buried them last year. So he has some inferiority complex and now he makes a race out of everything to try one-upping me. Every after party he’ll bring a girl who wears a shorter skirt than the one my date is wearing and has bigger boobs, or he’ll waggle his mouth with bullshit about me to his mates. He tries picking a fight wherever I’m in his general radius.” Taichi squinted to improve his vision, “though I think his current boo is with him right now, so I doubt he’ll start something. Not that I care.”

 

“You totally care…”

 

Taichi’s arm was tugged and led to rest against a soft, but solid, and warm body. When he followed the direction it had gone to, he found it secured around Yamato’s waist.

 

“Yama-” but his mouth completely forgot how functioning is supposed to be like when Yamato’s long limbs encircled Taichi’s neck and their chests touched.

 

“I bet his girlfriend isn’t a model, right? Consider this practice for the trip and pretend you’re kissing me.”

 

Taichi didn’t have to see the smirk on Yamato’s face. He heard it just fine from where he was standing and was mimicking it in seconds.

 

“Like hell will I let some crotch-rot chat shit about you…” Yamato murmured when he covered his and Taichi’s faces to hide the “pretend” part of the pretend kiss. From the small gap he left for himself between his index and third finger, he had an unobstructed line of sight to Goro’s approaching form and the smaller figure beside it.

 

Goro spotted them all right and a clear conflict played on his face the moment he did. If he had something to say to anyone, though, he bitched out of it. What a limpdick. 

 

Yamato watched him continuing to be an utter limpdick all the way out of Yamato’s line of sight. “That bloke had a pancake butt,” he spit, bloody vindicated that he felt.

 

When Yamato turned his attention back at Taichi, expecting some mutual rejoicing over a battle well fought and better won – or at least a plan well executed – he realised Goro wasn’t really on Taichi’s mind. The way Taichi was looking at Yamato… _shit_.

 

For long moments, Taichi was staring down at the lips he was supposed to be pretending to kiss. “You have pretty lips, Yama…” he tightened his hold on Yamato, pulling him almost harshly into his body.

 

The hard muscles of Taichi’s forearm were defined and voluminous against Yamato’s spine, and at that moment Yamato internalized, maybe for the first time, just _how_ strong Taichi is. The fact Yamato had well worked-out muscles of his own and a training regime only made this sensation, of being squeezed against Taichi’s tight abs, that much more potent. 

 

Taichi’s other hand climbed to the base of Yamato’s head, twining within the hairs that scraped Yamato’s shoulders. “They are peachy and look very soft and nice for kissing…”

 

Yamato’s mouth went dry and his heart may as well have been break-dancing. Not because he was afraid Taichi will do something, no matter how straightforward of a guy Taichi is. Neither was it because Yamato was afraid of _wanting_ to let Taichi do something.

 

Yamato was afraid because it took him no time at all to realise he never wanted something so bad like he wanted _this_. He didn’t even know.

 

Taichi moved past Yamato’s ear and his hot, melon-flavoured breath blew down the collar of Yamato’s shirt when he used a low, husky voice to say, “I’m just dicking with you.”

 

Yamato pinched Taichi’s left side hard between his nails. “Stop saying embarrassing things!” He pushed Taichi off of him and stormed off.  Without looking at Taichi, Yamato swallowed the suffocating chunk in his throat and yelled over his shoulder, “Sod off, Taichi! You can go to your own home, alone, and starve there for all I care!”

 

Out of Taichi’s sight, he concentrated on steadying his breath and wiped his eye with the root of his palm, trying to remove that fallen eyelash which got tangled up in the others and was really irritating his eyeball. He blinked and blinked and blinked a few times over to make sure it was really out. He was also thankful for the darkness. No one should know how pathetic he felt and, _shit_ , he really was, wasn’t he? He hated himself. But he could have really lived without this reminder from Taichi that no one Yamato could possibly be sexually interested in would ever be interested in him back. Oh, well, unless they were taking the piss, right?!

 

Blearily, he registered someone’s running behind him and they were on a collision course with his back. Only that wherever Taichi was aiming at, he missed spectacularly and head butted Yamato in the process.

 

“Yamato! I’m sorry! I -“

 

Yamato pushed passed him without a word; as if Taichi was not even there. What had just hit Yamato’s head was actually a mysteriously low, life-sucks-and-then-you-die branch or something.

 

Ignoring the throbbing pain in his skull, Taichi dashed in front of Yamato. Every time Taichi was near him, Yamato changed direction and zigzagged out of his way. It was the fact that Yamato didn’t make a point of stepping on Taichi’s foot to crush it that really drilled into Taichi just how much he screwed up.

 

Desperate and with no better idea in mind, Taichi tackled Yamato to the ground.

 

Now, Yamato had his face in the dirt.

 

That pretty much went as well as one can imagine.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yamato asked, punctuating every word with an even, monotonous intonation which would freeze an Inuit’s knickers off.

 

Horrified from the potential repercussions and motivated by self-preservation, Taichi stayed on Yamato, meshing him to the floor. “I’m sorry! I panicked because you wouldn’t listen and-“

 

“I wouldn’t listen because you’re a twat, Taichi!” Yamato’s voice crescendoed and Taichi almost have a pee-pee in his big boy’s trousers. “Now get the fuck off me before I scream!”

 

In response, Taichi slipped his arms under Yamato and clutched him tightly. He took a deep breath to remove traces of insecurity and talked down Yamato’s ear again. “I’m sorry, Yamato. I…” he paused to measure his next words very carefully. Audibly acknowledging how bad he hurt Yamato would expose Yamato to his own weakness, and at this moment – Yamato will really hate Taichi for it. “… I’m a complete arsehole. You were trying to do something nice for me and I bollocked it.” When the first layer of tension was peeling off Yamato’s muscles – whether because Yamato was actually listening or because he was conserving energy for the moment Taichi unleashed him so he could sack him – Taichi released one hand to stroke Yamato’s shoulder and murmured, “but that was just sort of my awkward way of admitting you really do have pretty lips, so… it was only half a joke. I guess I…” he sighed… “I guess I just teased you because I wanted to see your reaction. I know it’s a piss-poor excuse, but for all its worth – I really am sorry. And… I’m also sorry for head butting you. And for tackling you. And then for not getting up when you told me to… I am sorry, Yamato. Please forgive me?”

 

A long, tense moment stretched between moments void of sound.

 

“Get off me, Taichi…” Yamato didn’t sound angry any longer, but it was more like tiredness replaced the traces of rage instead. Taichi really had no choice but let him go.

 

Yamato got up and without saying anything else, walked the remaining ten metres to the Vespa.

 

Hands in pockets and back hunched, Taichi watched Yamato strap on the helmet and start the engine.

 

“Oi, Taichi, you coming or what?” Yamato lifted the orange helmet and thrust it in Taichi’s direction, signalling Taichi to park his rear behind him so they could go.

 

Within instances, Taichi was sitting with Yamato between his knees, right in the familiar crater his arse printed on the Vespa’s sit through years of usage.

 

The ride was quiet enough. Yamato didn’t say anything because there was nothing for him to add – and because insects were not on his diet.

 

Before going over to his place, they made a stop at the grocery store for dinner ingredients.   

 

“You want garlic yakisoba?” Yamato asked between examining the pork’s texture and measuring cabbages.

 

Trying to choose between brands of noodles, Taichi grinned. “You do know me best.” 

 

He was about to deposit his choice in Yamato’s shopping basket, when someone slammed into his shoulder and almost knocked him over.

 

“Oi, watch where you’re going, Yagami!” came Goro’s obnoxious voice from over Taichi’s head, “you almost made me drop my eggs all over your stupid mug! Bet they’ll feel right at home in this nest you call hair, though.”

 

Taichi had every bit the intention to pretend he wasn’t there when, out of nowhere, Yamato was draped all over him.

 

Peeking over at his basket, Yamato reckoned they had all the ingredients they needed. He could improvise for anything they’ve omitted at home. For now, his prime objective was to get Taichi and himself out of here and diffuse the situation before he won’t be able to stop himself from smashing the bloke’s cartilage so far into his skull his face would become modern art.  

 

With something of a crucial point he’d discussed with Mimi in mind, Yamato pretended he was one of those girls who feigned ignorance and acted stupid or naïve to make guys like them more. Something which really did make them stupid as far as he saw it, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

“Are you Taichi’s friends?” Yamato asked with the most high-pitched, saccharine-marinated voice he could master. The result was more impressive than he would have ever imagined – or wanted to imagine for that matter – and he was thanking his years in the band repeatedly for this fit.

 

Goro’s gaze shifted to Yamato and raked his tall form. “Is this your lovely girlfriend Taichi? How much are you paying for her? Seems a bit high maintenance for you.”

 

“I’m Yamato,” Yamato chirped energetically, ignoring the commentary, and practically pounced at Taichi to lock him in a crushing hug on all sides. “But Taichi calls me his little buckaroo,” he finished with one octave more seductive than the one he started with and a wink made of the fluttering of his lashes.

 

To say Taichi was entirely gobsmacked by his apparent pet name for Yamato would be an understatement, but he let the events play out with minimal interference on his part.

 

“Why does he call you that?” Goro’s girlfriend piped in after popping out from the bloke’s rib.

 

Yamato smiled at her. Tantalizingly, he trailed the pad of his index down “his boyfriend’s” torso until it was gently sweeping the top of Taichi’s belt. “Well, you know…” Yamato’s eyes pointedly met Goro’s with a bite, dropping the varnished “girlfriend” veneer, “but I guess you are not there yet, right? I mean, there is more dick in your personality than in your trousers, so I guess I can’t blame her.”

 

The ugly mug impressed Yamato as the typical macho bullshiter who’ll get really offended the moment it’s implied he’s not getting any. Like, a real bleeding heart case, yeah? And he’d get aggro with it.

 

That said, Yamato correctly guessed Goro was also not the type to hit a girl, so it was satisfying to the extreme to see the internal struggle playing out on his dumb face before he managed to come up with anything remotely intelligible as a comeback. “Your insults are kinda shallow.”

 

“But my throat is deep and swallows,” Yamato said when he passed by Goro’s side, dragging Taichi behind him towards the clerk and not once looking back. That felt bloody terrific.

 

Taichi lagged behind him the last few steps, unable to stop staring at the blonde head in front of him while Yamato was receiving his change and packing their groceries in his purse.

 

It wasn’t until they were out of ear shot that Taichi finally remembered how to string coherent words from his known syllables and consonants. “Wow, Yamato…”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Yama-“

 

“Never will we _ever_ talk about what just happened ever again!”

 

Yamato turned towards Taichi and even in the relative darkness and the soft oranges of street lights, the flush on Yamato’s face and the deep red tinge marking his ears were clear and easy to detect.

 

He shoved his purse into Taichi’s arms. “I need you to carry this on the way home. There are eggs in there and I don’t want them to break under my scooter’s seat.”

 

                                                                                                    ***

 

“Where’s your old man? Hi Gabumon!”  Taichi asked after turning on the lights to Yamato’s living room and inspecting the flat along with the emptiness within it – sans the blue digimon, who was hunched over a pile of papers. 

 

“Hello Taichi! Yamato can you help me with this word here?”

 

While Taichi was arranging the ingredients on the counter, Yamato peeked over Gabumon’s shoulder. “That’s the Kanji for ‘outside’,” then he affectionately ruffled the pelt around Gabumon’s horn, “how was your day, Gabumon?”

 

The digimon nodded, humming that his was a good day, equally pleased to have Yamato home. Through the soft motions on his scalp, his doggu nose caught the scent of grass around Yamato’s hand. “Taichi is all over you,” he said and sniffed Yamato’s familiar smell again, appraising the newly added spiciness in it. “You fought again, didn’t you?” Another sniff. “And he won.”

 

“None of yours, Gabumon!” Yamato roughened up the fur around Gabumon’s collar, making it jut in all possible directions till he looked like a blue, pampered pooch in a dog show.  Yamato considered it sufficient retribution. “I’ll be making dinner now.”

 

“Yes!” Gabumon cheered.

 

Yamato joined Taichi in the kitchen as Taichi was raiding the fridge for his dad’s beer.

 

“Bung a Lager over.” Instantly, Yamato had the cold, golden can in his hand without Taichi needing to even look back when he tossed the booze over his shoulder. He did audibly wonder though, with his voice resonating through the packed shelves of the fridge, “what’s Gabu doing?”

 

“I’m teaching him to read Japanese,” Yamato answered simply as he extracted the wooden cutting board and began chopping the Napa cabbage, “and as for your original question – dad is in the office till the weekend. Pass me the pepper-”

 

“Do you need any help here?” Taichi passed the pepper.

 

“Sure.” Yamato pointed at a small bowel by his side, “mix Soy sauce, rice wine and sugar in here. Then boil the noodles for 8 minutes and grate the carrots. Can you do that?”

 

Taichi nodded to the affirmative behind Yamato’s back, but even without visually perceiving the gesture, Yamato knew he was given what he wanted to hear.

 

“How are you gonna hide your outfits from your dad? I mean… if that’s even on the agenda…” Taichi asked, watching the sugar dissolve into the brown-ish concoction under his spoon.

 

“It’s not like he really notices what I wear,” Yamato shrugged, too immersed in his work to look at Taichi when he talked, “I just won’t wear the frilly stuff around the house so much. And Gabumon doesn’t care either since he’s a digimon and they don’t really get the point behind clothing anyway, not to mention how gender-based wardrobes work, so he won’t say anything.”

 

An appetizing, saline aroma was carried on the vapour rising from the broth and saturating all the rooms in the house. Half an hour later, Taichi set dishes and eating utensils for three while Yamato garnished each portion with thinly sliced scallions. The leftovers were placed inside a heat-resistant plastic container and Yamato drew a small, smiling dinosaur on it with a sharpie – telling Taichi to take it home with him so Agumon won’t feel left out.

Most of the dinner passed in idle chatting. While mowing down his food, Taichi learnt that not only was Yamato teaching Gabumon reading and writing, but also maths, computer basics and how to play the harmonica. Anything so the Digimon won’t get bored while Yamato was in band practice, studying or otherwise away from the house in any other form. He reckoned he should take a leaf from Yamato’s book and teach Agumon something other than football.

“Mind doing the dishes, ‘Chi? I need to take care of something.” Yamato looked over at Taichi with the question on his face as he got to his feet and evacuated the dishes into the sink, but without lingering to hear the obvious, “obviously!”

“Want to help me wipe the plates, Gabumon?” Taichi approached the washing station and packed soap on the pink sponge before rolling up his sleeves and grabbing an oily plate.

“Sure, Taichi.”  Gabumon picked up the cloth from the hanger and aligned himself next to Taichi. Once in position, he wiped the plates he was given in circular motions after which he stacked them neatly on top of the marble surface above his head.

With the unconquerable force of Digimon-human team-work, they were done in less than five minutes and Gabumon went back to his notebook while Taichi headed to Yamato’s room to inform him of the success of their operation.

 

Opening the door, Taichi was _not_ expecting to see what he’d just witnessed: the hem of Yamato’s shirt caught in his teeth as he fiddled with the weirdest device Taichi had ever seen on anyone’s chest since the hole in Tony Stark’s body. It looked like two plastic cups were latched on to Yamato’s pecks, connected by a thin, silicon tube that ended in what appeared to be a pump.

 

“Yamato-“

 

“This is a breast suction pump cup,” Yamato answered what Taichi was yet to fully verbalize even in his own head.

 

From his body language and tone, it was clear the situation, with everything it entailed, had made Yamato so uncomfortable, he skipped his usually hilariously embarrassed state and approached this scenario from the perspective of cold analysis. Yamato was physically exposed, he unintentionally made this process public when Taichi walked in on him, and the very idea of doing this to his own body was completely alien. Yamato wanted to be as detached from what was happening as possible.

 

“Mimi told me to use it for thirty minutes every morning and before bed. Supposedly, it makes your boobs bigger.”

 

Taichi slowly approached and sat on the bed next to him. “You don’t have to go so far for this. Tell Mimi to bugger off.”

 

“It’s fine…”

 

“It’s not fine!”

 

“Taichi!” Yamato shushed whatever Taichi could have said, “I can handle this.”

 

Taichi watched him. The next time he talked, he made it soft and unobtrusive. “It’s really important for you Mimi gets that job, isn’t it?”

 

Yamato shot him a glare. “Would I do this if it weren’t?”

 

Taichi could only smile at him, appreciating everything Yamato was. “You are really something else, Ishida.”

 

Yamato hadn’t said anything and they conveniently let the silence of the night fill their room. Taichi fell back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head to serve as leverage, staring at the small dots on the ceiling and feeling comfortable in the familiar space and the familiar scent and the familiar presence in Yamato’s bedroom.

 

Eventually, Yamato detached the pumps from his chest with a soft smacking sound. Taichi couldn’t really help his curiosity and took a small peep at Yamato’s half naked form.  Where the plastic cups were a moment ago, were now supple breasts which had a pretty swell to them and could easily pass as a perky A-cup. The gentle bumps were blushed and stimulated, but the fact they were so small made them stay up, looking cheeky and sassy.

 

Even though he was a man, due to Yamato’s body structure, the newly formed curves only made a barely visible difference and fit harmoniously with the rest of his proportions. It’s not exactly that suddenly boobs appeared there, but Yamato’s formerly squared, defined pecs became a bit more triangular, engorged and protruding. His nipples were more distinct. Sharp lines gave in to a subtle roundness. It was weirdly aesthetic.

 

Without him noticing, Taichi’s little peeping evolved into a long and thorough inspection as his eyes bounced around Yamato’s uncovered chest. They landed on his neck and roamed along the necklace formerly hidden from sight under Yamato’s shirt. It plunged the length of Yamato’s torso to his navel, where it encircled his waist.

 

What a tease.

 

“You have a lovely body.”

 

Yamato shoved the pumps into his drawer and turned to Taichi, who was very invested in Yamato’s “breasts”. Next thing he knew, Yamato covered them up with his arms, feeling very weird in this mix of vulnerability and, admittedly, sensuality. Simultaneously, he felt like a magnificent wanker.  Taichi saw his butt-naked self a gazillion times. Why did his nips suddenly become a big deal? ‘Cause they got a bit fluffed up? Fuck, is this how girls feel every time guys take their shirts off around them while they are forced to cover up? Why _are_ female nipples sexualized but male ones aren’t? Last Yamato checked, if it’s on a chest and is pointy – it’s a nipple! Just a nipple.

 

Yamato dropped his arms and picked up his shirt from the back of the chair it was lying on. “Taichi, please stop staring at me…”

 

“No dice.” Taich came up to Yamato for the sole purpose of poking his arm, “you’re cute as shit.”

 

“Shut up!” Yamato spat through his clenched teeth. “Am not,” and he threw his dirty shirt over Taichi’s stupid face.

 

“You all right?” Taichi yanked the shirt off and managed the appropriate level of seriousness the question beckoned. He glimpsed back down to Yamato’s puffy chest to indicate what he was talking about.

 

“I’m fine,” Yamato reassured him for what he considered the umpteenth time too many, “they are just more sensitive and hurt a bit if I try touching them immediately after pumping.”  

 

Taichi let him have this one without pushing the matter any further. He fancied having his face intact. The way his mum brought him into this world – that is the approximate shape in which he wanted to leave it. For that end, Yamato’s steel punch was a detrimental counter-force. Besides, if Yamato got himself into a sharing-and-caring mood, he knew where to find Taichi, so nagging should be safely kept to a minimum. Also, Taichi needed to make a few phone calls before the hour became indecently late.

“Do you still have that reception problem?”

“Yeah, dad said the mechanic will come next week. Why?”

“I need to give the boys from the team a few rings and confirm the schedule for the trip. Can we go up on the roof?”

“All right.” Yamato threw that shirt back on himself and led Taichi up a ladder from outside the flat, taking him through a short chute to the top of the apartment building. He was the only resident with the roof key. He stole it from their landlord when the latter did a maintenance check. Yamato copied the key and returned the original to the man’s mailbox like a good little boy. This almost guaranteed he and Taichi had all the privacy and quiet they so much as desired.

Up there, they greeted the nocturnal sky, bedecked with silver lights. Below, the city stretched, as though eternal, glittering with streetlamps and neon signs.

In the middle of the roof, a ragged and moth-eaten, blue two-seater sofa greeted them. It was left there by one of the previous neighbours for whatever mad reason and was growing black mould on its flanks.

Yamato plunged into the middle of it, his knees bent beneath his weight. He watched Taichi produce a few pieces of folded paper, a pen, and his cellphone – god only knows from where – and beginning to pace back and forth along the ledge of the roof.

From his sitting position, Yamato propped his head up with the palm of his hand, elbow bent on the cushioned back-rest of the sofa, and looked on as Taichi worked. Here and there, Yamato caught snippets of the conversations: dial, wait -“…Yeah…tell Atsuji if he doesn’t have a field mattress, Eiichi could bring him one because their family does a lot of camping…” Click, scribble on the paper, dial, wait – “Is your girlfriend allergic to anything?... all right… yeah, tell Kenji because he’s in charge of food… yeah, also beer…” Click, scribble on the paper, dial, wait, “so which station do you want us to pick you up from?... haha, all right… it’s still on route so I don’t think there’ll be a problem, but I’ll call the bus driver tomorrow just in case… don’t worry, I promise no one will be left behind. Worst case scenario you could stay with Ryu…what? Oh, yeah, I’ll hang the equipment list and the itinerary in the club room, don’t worry about it… see you tomorrow, mate.”  Click, scribble on the paper.

 

Yamato smiled without even realising he was doing it. Taichi was being the very best of his responsible leader self.

 

Yamato didn’t have a chance to hide it either – not that he particularly wanted to – when Taichi stuck his phone in the back pocket, turned around and asked “what…?” of all the pearly whites flashed at him.

 

Yamato shook his head in dismissal, still smiling. “Nothing…”

 

 “What?” Taichi insisted.

 

Rouge rushed up Yamato’s neck, hot and sticky. He had no idea what caused him to blurt, “Nothing. You’re just very sexy right now,” but it’s not like he could swallow it back. 

 

Yamato expected Taichi to laugh at the statement and use the opportunity to flaunt his bravado. He didn’t expect Taichi to blush and act… shy? That’s cute.

 

“Don’t mock me.”

 

Subconsciously, Yamato combed his fingers through his hair, letting it sway in the wind and bounce back into place. “I’m not,” Yamato said, still gauging the red on Taichi’s skin that went very well with his tan complexion. Yamato won’t lie – he was enjoying this slight reversal to their roles as teaser and teased. But what he was saying was honest and it continued coming out of him unbidden.

 

“Being a leader really suits you and when you act like one, it’s very sexy. Even if it’s organizing a trip to the football team and not some earth-shattering, war-of-the-worlds scenario… it’s sexy, Taichi.”

 

Despite the darkness, Yamato knew Taichi was staring at him, calculating something under that lion’s mane he called hair. With the shadow on Taichi’s face, though, Yamato couldn’t make the distinction.

 

“Thank you…” Taichi murmured, “coming from you it’s actually a real compliment.”

 

“Because I’m gay?”

 

“Because you’re you.”

 

The night was warm. Even up here, the breeze from the ocean was almost still. Everything was still, safe for the cars whooshing by below and the prickly sensation of statics emanating from the tension on the roof. It wasn’t a bad tension.

 

Still, Yamato reckoned it’d be better to diffuse it some. “Isn’t this your manager’s job, though?”

 

“Yes.” Taichi came up and plummeted next to Yamato – the old, rusty springs screeching complaints at the added weight they had to endure as they compressed, and the sofa dipped a few CM lower. “But she’s down with fever and I don’t want to make her do this. We are big boys who can handle ourselves.”

 

“Yeah, you are.” Was that really his own voice coming out of his throat all low and sexy-ish? Yamato needed an answer. The sooner, the better.

 

He sensed more than saw Taichi shift and their thighs gently brushed.  

 

“Yama…?”

 

The hot fumes from Taichi’s breath trickled down Yamato’s neck. Taichi was so close, the heat permeating from his skin invaded Yamato’s own and deflected from it. Yamato could feel all of it.

 

He hummed, listening to what Taichi had to say.

 

“Can I touch your leg?”

 

“What’s with you and my leg…?”

 

Taichi’s pinky skated along Yamato’s knee without answering anything. In Yamato’s lingo, this was so much more a ‘yes’ than a ‘no’. Yamato’s ‘no’s tended to hurt Taichi a lot more than this. No, right now, they agreed on some unspeakable thing between them.

 

With nothing even resembling protest stopping him, Taichi’s hand went further up and he felt a bit courageous. When the moment was right, he squeezed the flesh of Yamato’s thigh through the thin material of the hosiery, absolutely adoring the contrast between fit, toned muscles and the soft nylon of the stockings.

 

Taichi’s fingers fanned out and flew across the warm thing – its texture smooth and satisfying under his groping fingers.

 

In his ear, Yamato was whizzing out shallow, quick, shaking breaths.  A wicked-sweet tremor shot down Taichi’s spine.

 

He pushed Yamato till the pretty boy was on his back against the dirty sofa. Through Yamato’s spread knees, Taichi pinched a supple inner thigh with a harsh grip.

 

Yamato gasped. “Are you dicking with me again?!”

 

Whatever Taichi was at, he stopped and peered down at Yamato. ”Does it look like I’m dicking with you?” He bent down and fluttered a soft kiss on Yamato’s knee as Yamato watched on. “Look, for you, seeing me behaving like a leader is sexy. For me, few things are hotter than your great pair of legs with stockings on them. We both have our deviances.” He smoothed his thumb over the spot he’d just kissed, amused at the way Yamato’s mouth gapped in a funny mix of shock and, yeah – a bit of obvious pleasure. “Can I continue?”

 

Yamato peered back at him for a second. Slowly, he nodded and threw his head back along with his arms, figuring he might as well. Stopping Taichi from getting something he wanted was hard enough as it is. It was even harder when Yamato wasn’t sure he wanted to stop him.

 

“Thank you, Yama.”

 

Yamato chuckled. This was so weird and so surreal and such a weirdly surreal, asexual experience he couldn’t do anything else. It’s not even that Taichi wanted to fuck him and was displaying his kinky interpretation for foreplay. No – Taichi only wanted to rub Yamato’s legs without doing anything particularly sexual beyond that. “Didn’t realise you have a leg fetish. Bet it’s because you’re a footballer. You spend all your life staring at blokes’ legs and this is what happens.”

 

“I guess.” Taichi’s lips stretched over his teeth into something particularly devilish. He hoisted Yamato’s legs over his shoulders, spreading Yamato’s knees further in the process, and shoved his head between them to take a few bites of what he found there.

 

“Taichi! Ge-” Yamato was about to kick him off when Taichi softly sucked on a sweet spot Yamato had –

dangerously far on his inner, left thigh. Whatever Yamato was supposed to be yelling became a small moan.

 

That goggle-headed arsehole dared wiggling his eyebrows at Yamato and licked the area before putting it in his mouth again.

 

Taichi sucked, licked, nipped it. He made it his. He made Yamato is.

 

“Feels good?”

 

“Yeah…” Adrenaline coiled around Yamato’s centre and intimate pressure was building in his stomach. The only breaths he took were shallow and it deprived oxygen from his brain that was becoming muddied. His accelerated pulse will break his ribcage soon. Consciously, Yamato understood that, for Taichi, this was some ambiguously fetishistic form of none-sexual messing around and fooling around. But that didn’t mean it was the same for Yamato. It inflected and now Yamato was gone.

 

One of the bites was harder than the last ones. Yamato couldn’t stop the hurt whine, which got mixed in small choking sounds, from coming out of him. He shut his eyes.

 

His one hand flew to cover his mouth and shut it up.

 

The other sunk between his legs. He desperately tried to liberate himself from the growing pain there and undo the tucking. At the same time, he was trying to hide it away from Taichi.

 

Taichi didn’t let him. He put his fingers on top of Yamato’s own and lightly stroked his knuckles, trying to make Yamato calm down. “It’s all right if you get hard. It’s natural,” he rasped, voice quiet and low. “You don’t have to act like I’ve never seen one. It doesn’t bother me. Don’t hurt yourself.”

 

Hesitating, Taichi stared at the particular location his hand was linked with Yamato’s.

 

He moved Yamato’s hand away to replace it with his own. The back of his fingers brushed the front of Yamato’s denim, as if Taichi was trying to make sure what he felt there was the real thing. “Besides, I want you to feel good about this too…”  

 

He found the outline of Yamato’s penis beneath the rough fabric and began moving his palm around it, trying to set a rhythm Yamato would _love_.

 

“Taichi? Yamato?” 

 

Taichi and Yamato disentangled in milliseconds. Taichi put as much feasible distance from Yamato’s crotch as he could without jumping off the roof – though he did fall off the couch. No one here was ready to teach sex ed to the approaching Gabumon.

 

He shifted his puppy-ish red eyes from Yamato to Taichi a few times before reaffirming to himself that humans were complicated and that he didn’t want to know anyway. “Yamato, Hiroaki called. Something about a clogged toilet and roast beef leftovers.”

 

Yamato stared at him for a second. “You sure you heard right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What’s he on about?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Is he still on the line?”

 

“I told him you’ll call him back.”

 

“Thank God.”

 

Yamato assured Gabumon he’ll be over in a minute to unravel this mystery and Gabumon headed back down first.

 

Taichi scratched the underside of his chin as he watched Gabumon’s retreating tail. “Does this count as a Noodle Incident?”

 

“Most likely.”

 

Turning back to Yamato, Taichi scooted a few arse-widths towards him. “Do you want me to finish you off?”

 

Yamato was in the middle of trying to retrieve his hair to its natural state. “Nuh, blud, ’s fine. That was a serious boner killer.”

 

“True that,” and they both laughed.

 

In Yamato’s head, though, anarchy ruled supreme. What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck was _Taichi_ doing? … How did Yamato feel about it? For so many years Yamato tried not to think about Taichi this way and now Taichi just did it for him. Also, clearly, this was a turn on. The hard-on he had a minute ago wouldn’t lie. Taichi made him feel hot and desired.

 

But only because Yamato looked like a girl.

 

Thing is, it’s been so bloody long since someone made Yamato feel like this, he barely gave a shit. He just wanted someone who would make him feel nice and decent. He wanted to be touched and get orgasms in ways he couldn’t give himself, just like everyone else… And, at least it seemed to him Taichi cared about how Yamato felt and wanted him to be satisfied as well. Taichi wasn’t a selfish partner. And Yamato wanted this. He really just wanted to have this for himself. So… weird thought to have in his skull here, but… this is fine, right?

 

As long as it won’t affect their friendship.  “Taichi, this-“

 

“This won’t change anything about our relationship, I _swear_.” Taichi drew an imaginary X with his finger over his heart while the other he held up in the air as signal of an oath.

 

Relief washed Yamato like a tsunami. As a matter of fact, he was so relieved the next thing his mouth was doing was making promises he wasn’t sure he could keep: “we can do this again sometime. If you want.” He looked down at the hand that was clutching Taichi’s sleeve for some reason. Well, it was there already, so there’s nothing Yamato can do about it now.

 

The more Yamato thought about this, the more he convinced himself what he was about to say was reasonable. And why shouldn’t it be? They were both men, so they knew what it’s like. Fuck it. “I don’t have a boyfriend right now and you don’t have a girlfriend. You like my legs and I like getting off. Lots of guys help each other out, so…“

 

The weirdest part was that saying this didn’t feel weird. Well, the execution itself was bloody awkward, but being with Taichi like this was weirdly normal. It was yet another entrance on the list of unorthodox things they happened to do during their short life times – only that it carried mild sexual undertones. And it felt good. Yamato could get used to this.

 

He couldn’t really see Taichi’s face – only that Taichi was scanning the roof for some invisible whatever when he mumbled, “I can’t believe _you_ just propositioned to me…”

 

Yamato yanked his hand away. It was shaking. Shit. Shit! “Sorry…”

 

But Taichi stole it right back into his and closed his palm on all sides of Yamato’s fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that and I am _definitely_ not declining. I just need a moment to digest the fact _you_ of all people had said it so openly.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

“I don’t think being propositioned by a gorgeous blonde will ever be a bad thing for me, Yamato.”

 

Yamato decided to put “gorgeous” on hold for today and nudged Taichi lightly. “Be serious…”

 

“To be serious?” Taichi added his previously unoccupied palm to the one already encasing Yamato’s own. Now they formed a small, finger-igloo around Yamato’s hand. “I think you’re right and that’ll be brill.”

 

His eyes drifted along Yamato’s face – again – like he was looking for a conformation of some sorts – again.

 

Yamato felt naked when Taichi did that, but not inherently in a bad way considering the circumstances.

 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Taichi finally asked.

 

“Stellar…”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Positive.”

 

“HIV positive?”

 

Yamato smacked Taichi’s head with his free hand and Taichi smacked Yamato’s thigh affectionately. “Smashing. Go call your dad before he’d think you’re dead somewhere.”

 

Taichi jumped to his feet, but was pulled back almost instantly by the hand he was holding. He turned to pull the lazy bastard off his arse, but for the life of him, he couldn’t.

 

“Can’t we talk for a bit longer?” Yamato asked quietly, with those big, unparalleled blues and his _voice_. 

 

Taichi sat down, rethought that action and plummeted, head-first, into Yamato’s lap.

 

Yamato could kill him and Taichi would just let him.

 


	3. So Tell Me What a Boy Like You is Doing In a Place Like Mars?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's out! ^^  
> Just dropping a warning here- I think this chapter has few horror-ish elements, but it's not overplayed. Hope you like it!

When Yamato opened the front door, Taichi allowed himself a sneaky second to adore the perfect curves Yamato’s back formed under the flippy, grey fabric of his new skirt – all the way to his round buttocks. Taichi had to make an active mental effort to suppress the free will of his sneaky fingers before they pinched Yamato’s bum.

 

“Oh, my days! You look terrific, blud.”

 

Though the comment earned him only the silent treatment from Yamato, Taichi spotted a pink halo spreading a warm glow along Yamato’s pale neck and ears, and an itty bitty tiny, _tiny_ lift in Yamato’s lips. Even when his back was turned away from Taichi while he was giving his backpack a few finishing touches.

 

His masculine ego wouldn’t allow Yamato to acknowledge or accept these types of compliments, but it was clear Yamato wanted someone to make him feel pretty. Even just a bit. So Taichi made a point of doing as much. It’s not like anything he ever said was less than 100% honest 100% of the time and Yamato’s reactions were always, _always_ on the spectrum ranging from painfully cute to hilarious. Really, it’s been two weeks since Yamato’d been chick-fied and he still blushes whenever Taichi flatters him. It’s adorable. The secret is, of course, not to tell him that. Yamato’s fists hurt like a son-of-a-bitch – skirt or no skirt.

 

They took the tram to Koushiro’s office after stuffing Agumon and Gabumon into wrapping paper bows.

All of Yamato’s tantrums didn’t help him any against the solid logic Taichi applied when he suggested the Digimons could pass as the plush animals Taichi gave his “girlfriend” while they were on a date. So, to top it all off, Yamato’s knees were sweating not-so-majestic waterfalls under the joined scales of Gabumon and Agumon’s bums, who were sitting on his lap all throughout the ride.

 

Tentomon beeped them into the office when they arrived and even offered them snacks. Yamato exchanged glances with Taichi and both grinned at each other with the same thought in mind: “ultimate-level secretary.” Yamato even went as far as to invest a few seconds of his life into imagining HerculesKabuterimon in one of those pussy-bow blouses.

Koushiro giggled at something on the screen and lifted his eyes at his visitors to share the joke. “The internet is the recreation of human civilization in digital code. Right now it’s in its ancient Egypt stage – everyone is writing on walls and worshiping cats.”

The giggle became a wild howl.

A few seconds later, the funny part sank in and Taichi was laughing his face off on the sofa while Yamato was content to stay standing while clutching onto a lamp and his ribs.

 

“Taichi, Yamato – please approach and review the upgrades I installed for the cyberspace program. I have added numerous facilities and applications which I am certain will ensure admitting Gabumon and Agumon into the program a pleasurable experience for the duration of their stay.”

Taichi and Yamato crowded behind Koushiro’s fancy leather desk-chair.

 

Impressed, Taichi whistled at the image on the screen, which included pastoral scenery, complete with a meadow and a waterfall, along with beach chairs, coconut milk cups, and a ramen stand on the side. To the left of the screen was a narrow scale menu which allowed Koushiro to choose the season, the illumination, the background, and even to download furniture from the IKEA website, or foods from whatever restaurants had their menus on the net.

 

Yamato squeezed Koushiro’s shoulder appreciatively. “This is absolutely brilliant,” he exhaled in awe.

 

Koushiro swivelled in his chair to thank him and encountered Yamato’s bare legs under a small skirt. Mimi did mention something about this. He reconfigured himself and said, “thank you Yamato. And may I just say your outfit is very form-fitting.”

 

He turned to Taichi, completely missing the nigh-outrage contorting Yamato’s features. “How long is your football trip?”

 

“Two nights and two days.” Taichi pulled a pile of papers from his backpack. “This is our schedule. We won’t have reception on our cell-phones most of the time, but here are our emergency sim numbers and contacts in case there is a digi-crisis.”   

 

“Thank you Taichi.” Koushiro pinned the papers into his clipboard and uploaded the image from his screen to the large television in the room.

 

“You can go in whenever you like, guys,” he told Agumon and Gabumon, who were busy untying the ribbons off their heads.

 

After an extended period of hugs, goodbyes, and promises of edible souvenirs, Taichi and Yamato were off to the bus’s pick-up point.

 

The first thing to happen was Hana, the team’s inhumanly chipper manager, who immediately pulled Taichi – with Yamato in tow – to the front seat, announced their arrival into the mic to the cheers of their fellow footballers, and began roll-calling names.

 

Yamato would have wondered how one person can be so bloody perky they behaved like alien parasites ate their brains, but he had more crucial worries. Coming up on a bus with ten male gazes traveling up and down his body was… well… rattling, honestly. He was glad to see that other than himself, three other girls excluding Hana joined them, but they were _not_ on the same terms. These girls had had girl-experience for years. He was only branching out into the field! And, since factually he was a still a man, he also knew what was crossing these blokes’ heads periodically. This only made his state of exposure all the more icky.

 

The discontent probably showed on his body, because he felt small circles rubbing into his shoulder as Taichi let him take the seat by the window, where he’ll be hidden from sight.

 

On Taichi’s part, introducing Yamato as his girlfriend felt very natural and that was very odd.

 

***

 

One hour ahead, and they were setting camp in Kanagawa Prefecture. Taichi was in the middle of an equipment check when Kenji, who was almost a head taller than him, put his elbow on Taichi’s shoulder and pretended to be using Taichi for his comfort.

“Your girlfriend has a delicious ass.”

Taichi lifted his eyes from the list in his hand and searched for Yamato. Sure enough, he found him scattering water containers between the cabins on the camping grounds. Could he _not_ shake his bum like that when he walked?

 

Taichi’s smile was a large, open mouth. “You know, mate, maybe you would have been able to talk more clearly if your parents were second cousins instead of first. Care to repeat what you just said about my girlfriend?” He slung his hand over Kenji _just_ a bit menacingly.

 

Kenji laughed – whether nervously or naturally was blurred line for Taichi – but let off and went to help Ryo unpack, leaving Taichi with: “you’re ace, cap!”

Up until dusk, they hiked in the woods around the camping grounds and right after, they were gagging for campfire potatoes and potjiekos – which Yamato _still_ had no idea how he ended up being in charge of. He followed with his eyes the flight of a bat all through the cooking process, trying to avoid the trajectory of its shit. No challenge was greater to an outdoor cook.

 

No one complained when he was through with them, though.

 

“All right, everyone! You all know what’s next!” Hana picked a torch from her satchel and aimed the eerie light to her face. The shadows danced under her eyebrow bones. “Whose scary story is going to make me have an accident? Come on! Who wants to go first?!”

 

Taichi sensed Yamato tense next to him. He went from being a human being to a wooden plank seconds after Hana opened her hatch.

 

“We don’t _have_ to, Hana. There are better things we can do, like –“

 

“Fuck yeah, better things!” Atsuji shouted over whatever it was Taichi was going to suggest. “Mates, we are in _Kanagawa_ – and a walking distance from the field hospital. That place is smashed with ghosts! I say we air out our bollocks a bit and go check it out!”

 

A round of cheers welcomed this proposal.

 

“Speaking of airing out bollocks, how about we make it more interesting?” Roman started. “We go in and whoever comes out on the other side last has to wash everyone’s jockstraps after the next practice?”

 

A round of cheers – and disgust – welcomed this proposition as well.

 

At this point, stirring them away from any horrific endeavour will be a moot point. Out of habit, Taichi made sure he met the eyes of every member of his team when he detailed the mission. In the meanwhile, away from the view of the others, he rubbed gentle circles into Yamato’s back. “All right. We go in in groups of two to three people. To prove you’ve actually went inside and not just ‘round the building, each group has to get to either the attic or the basement and bring something back with them – rubble not included – or take a picture. Whoever has his girlfriend here goes in first and the rest will draw numbers. Is everyone all right with this?”

 

A wild round of claps and whistles from his teammates told Taichi no one had qualms with this arrangement and they were all on their feet and marching in less than five minutes.

 

When they were sufficiently out of ear-shot, Taichi turned around to Yamato.

 

“We don’t have to go. I’ll tell Hana we didn’t feel like it, she’ll cover for us and no one will give us grief for it.”

 

Taichi already felt plenty guilty for dragging Yamato over.  He just wanted him as comfortable as humanly possible.

“Let’s go.”

 

Taichi blinked, rewinding his brain to make sure he heard correctly. “Yamato… you’re af– you hate all that ghost rubbish.” Taichi will be damned if he’ll accuse, confront, address, suggest, or allude in one way or another to Yamato’s _discomfort_ with ghost stories. He liked his face exactly where it was and just in its current topographical state, thank you very much.

 

Yamato sucked in a breath and released it in periodic, slow shudders. “You are their captain, Taichi. You have to set an example.”

 

“Yamato…”

 

 “Come on. Light a fire under your arse and let’s get it over with.”

 

Yamato followed the loud trail of footballers, knowing he talked braver than he felt. All the while, he also tried ignoring the gusts of wind coming from under his mini skirt and up his butt.

 

Knowing better than to try arguing, Taichi hurried up to walk with him – not that any conversation happened just because he did.

Not until they were finally staring down at the ponderous, large metal gate separating them from the bowels of the horror hospital.

 

Taichi elbowed Yamato in the ribs. “You know, half the reason the boys are so fired up about this is because they wanna make their girlfriends clingy, so maybe they’ll get lucky enough to cup a feel. Apparently, ghost hunting is a romantic pastime.”

 

Yamato snorted. “You don’t say. What about that dreamy, blank-eyed, beyond-the-grave stare ghosts have _you_ don’t find appealing?”

Since Taichi was accompanied by his so-called girlfriend, he and Yamato were amongst the first to go in.

 

Evading the night guard wasn’t really hard. He wasn’t any more thrilled to be there than Yamato was, and avoided patrolling inside as much as possible.

 

They climbed over the gate – Yamato going up first and Taichi following right behind him to shield his knicker-covered arse from anyone who fancied taking a peek-a-boo up his skirt.

 

The forsaken building, in all its grey decay, loomed over them, stoic and ominous.

 

Beyond the double doors, waited a desolated lobby, wracked with rabble and torn furniture. Taichi pulled out a torch from his trousers and Yamato used his phone light to try and find stable footing in the darkness left in wake of the double doors shutting behind them.

 

The lobby split threeways with the middle corridor being the widest while the remaining two led to some obscure wards shrouded in sheer blackness.

 

They started moving along the central lane, expecting stairs leading between the floors either to be on the other side or somewhere in the middle.

 

Rubble shifted under their feet, grinding and crunching against shattered porcelain tiles, glass, and exposed metal pipes.

 

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiiiiiiiitttt. A trodden, rusty wheelchair lied on its side in the middle of the passage, three of its four wheels screeching violently against the mouldy air flux in the corridors.

 

Something slipped into Taichi’s front pocket. He subdued a terrified scream on the verge when he realised it was Yamato’s way of confirming he was scared shitless.

 

“Yama?”

 

It’s not that Yamato didn’t hear him or that he didn’t want to answer. He did, he just couldn’t. 

 

Taichi didn’t bother trying to get an intelligible response out of him. Instead, he let Yamato sidle up closely to him.

 

Through the thin fabric of his shirt, Yamato’s skin prickled at the cold wind sipping through the cracks in the walls and the unfurled horrors in waiting.

 

A loud clang resonated through building followed by a slow, foreboding screech. Taichi almost jumped out of his skin but, before bidding farewell to his dermis, rationalized it was probably the next team entering.

 

Yamato wasn’t there though. He was out of it completely. He atomically bonded himself to Taichi’s left arm and was cutting off Taichi’s blood supply. If he wouldn’t let off a bit, Taichi’d get gangrene. Taichi bore with the pain, though. He had no right to complain. If that would make Yamato just an inch better, it was fine.

 

Yamato’s hand went as deep into Taichi’s pocket as possible – all the way till the fabric covered his wrist.

 

Taichi sucked in air. Innocently, Yamato’s hand stroked up and down Taichi’s sensitive prick through the fabric of his khakis. Yamato didn’t know he was being an awful tease, though. He didn’t know he was giving Taichi a hand job. It distracted Taichi from the ghosts all right, but his rapidly growing boner was making walking an exercise in pandemonium.

 

Taichi tried shimming away from the contact but Yamato’s reactions were so bloody unpredictable! He clawed Tachi’s thigh with his nails and was one CM away from castrating him.

 

Muscles coiled around Yamato’s bones till he was tenser than a barbed wire. Seeing that distress in Yamato’s body – Taichi couldn’t take it.

 

“Yamato,” he cracked past his pelvic suffering, “we don’t have to stay. The door is right there. We can just turn around and leave.”

 

Yamato’s chaotic breath was blowing down Taichi’s shoulder and Taichi listened only to that heaving for a very long time before Yamato finally talked.

 

“Please stop saying this to me. I’m already here, so let’s just get it bloody over with.” 

 

Yamato just wanted to bear with it and support Taichi. Why was this so much to ask?! But all he got for his troubles was being mummied by Taichi and feeling like an utter prick. Plus, most of the time he was peeking over Taichi’s shoulder and using him as a human shield. If pathetic could smell, Yamato’d be reeking.

 

In a sliver of a moment, his night vision – which was completely above average, thank you for asking – caught what looked like the silhouette of a railing. That meant those were the stairs, which meant they could get to the basement, which meant they could get out of here which meant Yamato may not live to see the day where he pisses himself in his knickers.

 

Yamato yanked Taichi’s arm and, with rejuvenated vigour, broke into a sprint.

 

“Yamato, you arse!” 

 

Taichi raced after him like a speeding bullet and caught him by the waist, almost chocking Yamato in the process.

 

“Yamato! Calm the fuck down! You’ll give yourself an ulcer!”

 

Yamato was probably completely panicked, because he started wiggling and grappling like a mad octopus.

 

The loose tile beneath Taichi’s foot slipped out of place and took Taichi and Yamato along with it for the ride.

 

With vengeance.

 

Instead of hitting his back against the filthy floor, Taichi’s body kept on falling, falling, falling and the ceiling was becoming further, further, further away. Within his fingers he had a piece of warm flesh – Yamato’s wrist, flaying desperately. Taichi clutched it like it was the last thing he would feel in his life. For all he knew, this could be true. He shut his eyes, skin creasing tightly and to harmful extents, as he braced himself for the impact.

 

There was a loud thump, a toxic cloud of dust becoming airborne after being disturbed from motionless seventy years, the sensation of harsh chafing on Taichi’s skin, the explosion of pain across his entire skeletal structure from a hard hit, the sensation of sinking, of bouncing back and finally – of lying still.

 

“Taichi! Oh my god! Taichi?! Are you all right?!”

 

A hand was feeling up Taichi’s face frantically, trying to bring him back to life.

 

He opened his eyes. There was nothing; a long succession of uninterrupted darkness which stretched into infinity on either side. He grabbed the hand prodding him and squeezed it, calming it down. His arms weren’t broken – that’s a plus.

 

“I’m sore all over, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

 

Taichi moved his neck from side to side, wiggled his toes, bent his knees and lifted his legs a bit. Moving hurt like a son-of-a-bitch fucking a son-of-a-bitch in the arse without lube, but all the bones functioned as they should and in the correct angles, so he really was intact and that was bloody brilliant.

 

“What about you?”

 

When weight shifted around Taichi, he realised his grip was still locking Yamato’s wrist and all this moving around was Yamato trying to make himself more comfortable. He still didn’t let go of him, though.

 

“Better than you are.”

 

After a few more shifts, Taichi felt Yamato’s body aligning next to his. They stayed like that for a few minutes – how many? Time didn’t really exist here for anyone to tell, but Taichi _still_ kept Yamato’s wrist held. Maybe he was afraid it’d disappear, like the light, if he let go.

 

“That’s just a myth,” Yamato’s quiet voice disrupted the stale air.

 

“What?”

 

“The ulcer thing. It’s a myth. Stress can’t give you an ulcer. It’s usually caused by bacteria or an overdose on pain relievers.”

 

Taichi laughed. It was such a random timing for that trivia – but what else could he do? And his voice bounced off the walls and echoed through… wherever they were and really needed to whole-ass out of. It reeked of graveyard odours.

 

“We should get going.”

 

Whatever reprieve from his fears being alive gave Yamato, it had dissipated the moment Taichi finished talking. He was a petrified stone statue crashing into Taichi’s kidneys in instants.  

 

“Yamato-“

 

“Yeah, we should go.”

 

Weight lifted off Taichi’s side, the unstable surface they were on rocked and bounced in retaliation, and then there was a muffled thump escorted by a metallic sound.

 

“My phone survived!” Yamato announced.

 

The light spilling from it was minute, grey, and dull, but here it was a mega-ultra-upgraded lighthouse’s beacon and Taichi went momentarily blind. Not blind enough to prevent him from going, “halleluiah!” though.

 

“Can’t find the torch. It’s probably still up there.”

 

“Shit. Dad’ll get royally pissed off. Fine, give me a lift and we’ll get the fuck out of here.”

 

Yamato’s hand found Taichi’s and gave him a pull.

 

But before Taichi stood properly, Yamato let go and fell to the ground with an odd sound composed of a whimper and a ravaged growl.

 

“Fuck!” Yamato’s voice was shaking something awful and he curled himself around his knees like a nutter in the bin.

 

“Yamato?!”

 

“What the fuck?! What the- what the actual fuck?! Fuck!... Fuck!”

 

“What are you-”

 

But then Taichi saw it. Following the beam of slim light, he saw it – what sent Yamato into a fit: What they landed on – the very reason they were still alive – was a pile of rotting mattresses, covered with brown and yellow stains upon which people had probably died by the hundreds back in WW2 before shitting over themselves.

 

Trying to reject thinking about urine and blood, Taichi hissed a rough breath through his teeth and bile jumped to his throat. This was wretched. Completely wretched. He almost honked chunks all over himself, but forced himself to swallow down the vomit.

 

He can’t lose the plot here. He can’t. He needs to get Yamato and himself out of here and he needs to do it before either one of them goes mental.

 

Taichi crouched near Yamato, whose body shook and pulsed as though he’d been electrocuted. Taichi put two firm hands on Yamato’s shoulders and slid them down his arms, went back up his arms, rubbed and stroked, distributed warmth, and slid back down till they were grasping Yamato’s hands. Taichi pried the phone and its light out of the tangled mess named Yamato and unravelled the knot of limbs Yamato tied around himself.

 

“Yamato, we can’t stay here. There could be more debris falling and the whole place can come crashing down. We have to go. Please, Yamato.”

 

Yamato lifted his head, meeting Taichi’s eyes – which were no less terrified than Yamato – and the ugly, jagged scratch mark on Taichi’s forehead. He frantically nodded to the affirmative, trying to convince himself more than anyone else, wiped his face with the back of his arm and let Taichi drag him to his feet.

 

“Sorry…”

 

“Don’t be.” Taichi weaved an arm around Yamato’s waist, helping him to stay stable. “I just want to get the fuck out of here and eat roasted marshmallows, you get me?”

 

They started walking again. Where the faint light spilled over the edges, it revealed sharp and metallic devices – so-called medical appliances from days of yore whose silhouettes bore more similarity to torture instruments than anything else.

 

They walked and they walked and they walked, blowing poofs of dust under their feet. For how long – they didn’t know. It felt like hours in darkness that never ended anywhere.

 

“Taichi – wait, alright?” Yamato grabbed Taichi’s sleeve and reclined against the wall with his hands on his knees, taking a few lungfuls and evicting them as harsh coughs. “Give me a few.”

 

He closed his eyes, straightened up, and leaned back. “I’m sorry.”

 

Taichi hugged him. He couldn’t think about anything to say, but he wanted Yamato to feel better so badly. Taichi wasn’t like Hikari or Sora, who could smile people’s problems away. He could smile at Yamato, though, and take his problems away at least. That’s the only thing he wanted right now. He didn’t even care about getting out.

 

Ever since they journeyed through the Digital world, Yamato knew how to give Taichi what he needed – a talk, a joke, or a right hook straight to the jaw. He was the one who reminded Taichi who he really is. _The one who let Taichi do the same to him and grow beside him_. He was the one who balanced Taichi or found him when Taichi was lost.

 

They’ve been together for so long and Yamato hadn’t changed at all –but also changed a ton.

 

After all, he was not alone. The lone wolf act is charming until you remember lone wolves die fast in nature. So Taichi will never let him be alone – ever… _ever_.

 

In the battle against Alphamon a few years back, Yamato knew exactly what to say to Taichi and how to make the flashbacks stop. He knew how to make Taichi remember why he was standing where he did, and how Yamato would stand there with him, no matter what. Yamato was aggressively always there for Taichi. He did it by being practical; he did it by reminding Taichi the strength he had.

 

Even if they weren’t being attacked by a ginormous mecha Digimon right now, Taichi wanted to do the same for Yamato.

 

He squeezed Yamato’s arms and let Yamato’s heavy head burrow into Taichi’s neck, hugging for the longest time.

 

“Yamato, you tosser… You’re one of the strongest bastards I know and you’re bloody terrifying.  Even if there were ghosts here – which is utter rubbish – they’ve pissed themselves and did a runner the moment you walked in.”

 

Taichi was happy to make a smile find its way through Yamato’s ocean of shudders and he tried maintaining a good balance between being reassuring and serious.

 

“We can’t just stand here. The building can collapse on our heads. Come on.” 

 

Yamato nodded against Taichi’s shirt but barely moved.

 

In a streak of brilliance, Taichi groped his back pocket for his mp3 player. Through some ungodly force of miracles piled up on top of each other, it survived the fall and was still in a wholesome state. He pulled it out and unwound the in-ear headphones. He shoved them into Yamato’s ear canals and pressed play, hearing KoD filtering through the tiny speakers.

 

He smiled because Yamato smiled again and took Yamato’s hand back so Taichi could start dragging them away.

 

A mild draft wafted through the dunk air. After scrunching his nose to block whatever he could of the stench, Taichi stopped walking so abruptly Yamato clashed into him. Earned himself a knee right up his arse crack in the process.

 

“What the fu-”

 

Taichi signalled Yamato with his fist in the air, stopping him from finishing the thought. “Yamato – wind! There’s wind here!”

 

And Yamato was all for it.

 

“A way out?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Certainly, Yamato was hella animated with the proper motivation. They made good pace, following the invisible path of strengthening gusts while specifically _not_ running to avoid previous errors.

 

“There!”

 

Yamato pointed to a small square of moonlight hiked up on the wall. Glass shatters still lined the windowpane, so even if they got up there, utilizing it to get out would literally be a bloody ordeal.

 

It didn’t take Yamato five minutes to find an old IV stand and use it to smash the remains of the glass and push it out. Taichi dumbly watched in pure, deeply-seethed appreciation the fruits of Yamato’s determination to get the fuck out of here.

 

He snapped out of it and decided to help their mutual cause by hauling over two decomposing stools and stacking them on top of one another.

 

He held them steady and they were off.

 

                                                                                        ***

 

“Taichi! Are you two all right?!” Hana dashed towards them with a first aid bag dangling off her shoulder. Taichi had to hold her in place with both hands to prevent her from giving them a medical “inspection.”

 

“We’re mint, don’t worry. How long have we been MIA?”

 

“Almost three hours!”

 

Taichi let it sink in for a moment. “… We lost, ain’t we?”

 

Hana’s mouth curved apologetically. “But, hey, you’re safe home, right?”

 

“And you’re gonna clean my crotch juices, captain Yagami!” Eiichi yelled Hana’s her shoulder after popping up from a nearby bush like an oversized gnome.

 

“Well, that’s that,” Hana said with her unnaturally omnipresent manager-smile.

 

When all four of them popped into view from behind the bushes, every member of Taichi’s team scooched aside and made room for Yamato and Taichi to sit. Apparently, they were in the process of forming rescue squads and informing the authorities.

 

They made good time as well. If it would have taken Taichi and Yamato two minutes longer, the coppers would have raided the place – if not the military. They all would have been hauled home in police cars, the trip would have been sacked, and Taichi’s mum would have strangled him through a pillow in the dead of night so no one would hear him scream.

 

After everyone took turns making sure Taichi and Yamato weren’t broken, they shoved mushrooms and crispy, burning marshmallows on sticks into their hands. And alsd threw blankets on their stupid heads – yeah, they did that.

 

“So, like, were you guys shagging or something?” Atsuji asked around the fat sausage he was tearing off the stick.

 

Well, that was several layers of awkward neither Taichi nor Yamato were comfortable addressing.

 

Diffuse! Diffuse! Diffuse! Before Yamato’d kickbox someone’s ear off.

 

“I just got us lost, is all.”

 

Yamato stared at him. Taichi could have so easily gone with the truth: that they lost because Yamato had his bullshit to sort out. Protecting his “girlfriend” would have been a more than acceptable excuse. Guys are always willing to believe girls need their help. Instead, Taichi wanted to preserve Yamato’s pride and privacy – as either a man or a woman.

 

“It’s my fault,” Yamato said, blocking them off before they grilled Taichi. “I found a wounded cat under the floorboards and made Taichi help me get it out.”

 

He linked his arm in Taichi’s, elbow to elbow, and smoothed his other hand down Taichi’s sideburn affectionately. “He is my hero… and since he’s my hero, he’ll put it in my arse tonight.”

 

Without another word, to the stunned faces of all males and females present, Yamato hauled Taichi to his feet and strutted seductively to their cabin, as if proving he was following through with his promise.

 

Taichi followed him into a small covenant of trees, where they were out of earshot. There:

 

“Yamato…?”

 

“Yes…?”

 

“Why is this your go-to thing?!”

 

Yamato was gifted with his use of words all right, but had a hard time expressing himself to people – and generally sucked a bunch with human interactions. The shit that came out of his mouth was priceless, and Taichi was tearing his face off laughing, so hard he walked into a tree.

 

“Why do you make promises to penises and use sex to prove you’re a good girlfriend?!”

 

Yamato turned around, almost as horrified as he was when they were in that bastard hospital.

 

“I don’t know! Save me from myself!” He was redder than a drunken Santa clause. If the heat on face could be converted into energy, it would supply electricity for every company in Tokyo.

 

But it really was hilarious on a very fundamental, almost subjective level, so Yamato laughed as well and they fuelled each other’s hysterical giggles. By the time they reached their cabin, Yamato was in a spoon-state.

 

Then he opened the door and stopped laughing.

 

“Taichi, why is there only one, single-person bed in here?”

 

Taichi peaked inside and sighed for Yamato to hear. “The guys who have girlfriends usually get the emptier cabins. No one wants to hear his mate’s balls slapping a minge while they aren’t getting any. Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

 

Yamato rolled his shoulders and exhaled while calculating their options.

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

Taichi glanced at him, part curious and part trying to discern whether or not Yamato had officially lost the plot.

 

“I mean,” Yamato filled in Taichi’s blanks, “we slept in weirder conditions and larger shitholes. It’s just one night. Plus, if you sleep on the floor you’ll either hurt your back or catch a cold and then _I’ll_ have to baby you. We may bloody well just do it.”

 

“It’s all right with me, blud, but we’re gonna sweat the pacific all over each other. You’re gonna smell like my armpit.”

 

“You won’t be the first man to get me hot and wet in bed.” Yamato walked inside and picked up a remote from the crammed, boxy table in the middle of the room. “Besides, this place has an AC. We’ll be fine.”

 

Taichi smirked at the first comment. It’s not every day Yamato talks about the other men in his life, let alone sex. He must really appreciate being alive.

 

Since Taichi had nothing left to do – “Be back in a few,” and he headed to the main camp area to fetch their backpacks with Yamato throwing: “right. I’m in for a quick shower,” at Taichi’s back while starting to strip.

 

By the time Taichi opened the door, Yamato was already standing naked and dripping wet in the middle of the cabin, wiping himself off with a tiny kitchen towel. He glanced over at Taichi and nodded once to acknowledge his presence before running the towel through his hair. He seemed perfectly comfortable with his novel nudity.

 

Taichi didn’t move in. He noticed he didn’t move in – but he still didn’t move in. Nope… not yet. Yes, the door was open ‘n’ all, but his feet just sort of got stuck on the verge and he ended up staring like a twat.

 

“Nice…”

 

“Do you want to stop staring at my dick today?” Yamato turned away and went to pick up his used knickers from the floor. “Oi, throw me a fresh pair.”

 

Taichi grinned. That’ll have to do for now. He didn’t want to explore from up close the shudder that ran down his spine and continued lower than it should have, nor the small balloon of happiness which wasn’t related to getting out of that bloody haunted hospital or hanging out with his best friend. At least Yamato was a self-proclaimed neko – there’s that.

 

“Yamato, just stand still and let me compliment your bum.”

 

Yamato shook his head, but a small smile broke through his stoic veneer.

 

Yamato liked being complimented. Just not admitting it. _Cute_. Or at least he liked being complimented by people whose opinions he respected… and maybe by cute boys? Taichi considered himself pretty cute.

 

Taichi rummaged through Yamato’s backpack and found a pair of cotton Brazilian briefs rimmed with lace. They were fairly comfy looking so he hurled them at Yamato, who locked his fist around them a second before he had a crotch piece plastered on his face.

 

He wriggled himself into them and the only thing Taichi had to do was not think. Not think at all.

 

“So how do you wanna do this?”

 

“Huh… what?”

 

“Sleeping – how do you want to arrange all this?” Yamato raised one fine eyebrow and a worried furrow carved a crease on his forehead. “You all right?”

 

“Sorry, yeah – yeah, I’m fine.” Taichi rubbed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to force a particularly nasty, wayward bug to drop off his hair. “Just tired.”    

 

Yamato examined him. Taichi knew Yamato knew that Taichi was not ‘just tired.’

 

“We’ll talk about this later…” was sighed from Yamato’s slightly teeth-grinding mouth. Even if Taichi was not ‘just tired’ – Yamato was.

 

They danced around the logistics of getting into bed for a whole five minutes before it was agreed Yamato’d get the wall side while Taichi’d enjoy the lux of the freedom side. He won by merit of having to take a piss 1.5 times more often than Yamato.

 

They squeezed in on the tiny cot, arms bending in implausible angles to leave some space for the legs.

 

Since Taichi was made of magic, it didn’t take him long to doze off and Yamato just watched him go.

 

Yamato shifted in place a bit, taking up the challenge to pull his knickers out of his arsehole after they rode up his crack without waking Taichi up. His attempt was all in vain; because whoops –  suddenly a warm hand was scaling the length of his thigh and descending back to his knee where it started tickling it.

 

Taichi cracked open one eye and matched it with a patented, cheeky grin. “You’re warm…”

 

Yamato’s brain told him to hit Taichi, but his face ended up making these cutesy, a-bare-millimetre shy-of-giggly noises. These were the most embarrassing sound-waves to have ever left his windpipe. Somehow, though, he found himself not really caring.

 

“Thank you…“ Yamato murmured.

 

Taichi’s eyebrows formed a curious ‘W’ between them. “What for?”

 

“Today. You knew exactly what to do. Thank you for saying what you did… for getting me out of there.”

 

The hand Taichi kept on Yamato’s thigh climbed up till it found Yamato’s hand and nestled on top of it, where it stroked Yamato’s cuts and scratches.

 

Till today, every time Taichi felt uncertain or scared, he remembered the battle against VenomVandemon. He remembered Yamato taking his hand, how they held them intertwined, giving each other strength to face the unknown.

 

In the proverbial sense, their hands are always intertwined because they still give each other strength. 

 

Out of instinct almost, Yamato closed his thumb around the flesh that covered his and for a while he and Taichi smiled at each other, held hands, and caressed each other’s skins.

 

***

 

Yamato woke up to a brown bundle of fluff attacking his face and a cramped foot.

 

“Taichi?”

 

Taichi’s throat gurgled residues of sunken spit, but otherwise the man was a slab of snooze.

 

Yamato reckoned he didn’t require Taich’s aid to take a morning piss, so he tried pushing Taichi’s appendages off of him. Apparently, as the night progressed, Yamato had been gradually sucked in by Taichi’s limbs until he metamorphosed into a cocoon-like existence.

 

“No,” Taichi murmured resolutely just when Yamato was about to complete the process of climbing over him, and locked his arms around Yamato’s torso again.

 

Yamato lay still for a couple of minutes, one leg curled around Taichi while the toes of the other almost, _almost_ touched the liberation the floor offered. One of his arms dangled over the bed post and the other was bent into a triangle between his and Taichi’s bodies.

 

“Let me take a leak, you outstanding arsehole.”

 

The spite only motivated Taichi to clasp harder and curl his lips into a happy-cat expression. The smug fuck.

 

“You are comfy.”

 

“I’ll piss on you, Taichi.”

 

“Sexy.”

 

“You’ll have to pay compensation to the camping grounds’ owners when the mattress will start reeking of urine.”

 

This argument forced Taichi to let Yamato go – not without a begrudging bleating, but still. Appealing to a student’s empty bank account never fails.

 

Yamato entered the tiny stall while Taichi watched him go and shake those Brazilians in the process. Only Yamato can look so good while simply walking away.

 

When Yamato emerged after a minute, fully enjoying the fact that – knickers or no knickers – he could still take a piss like a man, Taichi was holding the two-piece, bombshell bikini Mimi packed for him and grinning again. Almost maniacally.

 

“We’re going to the river today, so put these on.”

 

Taichi tossed the flimsy pieces of scuba fabric to Yamato and absolutely relished the particular brand of confusion Yamato grew on his mug.

 

Yamato fumbled with the bathing suit, flipping it over and over in his hands.

 

“Where is the rest of it?”

 

Taichi ‘pfft’ at him. “That _is_ it.”

 

“Fuck my life…”

 

“Don’t be sore. You’ll look cute in it.”

 

What Yamato shot him was more a poisonous-dart than a glare. “Piss off Taichi,”- but he went to put it on anyway, repeating the mantra, ‘I promised Taichi. I promised Mimi. I promised Taichi. I promised Mimi,’ in loops in his head.

 

It took him three minutes to fasten the bottom’s fragile side-lacing. Who was the regal arsehole who invented underwear that won’t stay up unless you tie the two measly strings it’s made of into an arterial tourniquet? What bloody sort of function does it serve? And why, fucking why?! The flimsiest tug will tear these off of him!

At least the bra top had hooks. Mimi picked him a heavily padded one to hide his blatant lack of tits.

 

Then it took him five more minutes to get over himself and come out.

 

Taichi gave him a good, omni-poignant once-over, of the variety which twined around Yamato’s body the moment Yamato stepped back into the room. He ran his thumbs gently along Yamato’s hips and hooked them into the knots holding the low-cut bottom piece together. He played around with the strings and was so fixated on them, a cat entranced by a new pair of shoelaces won’t do better looking so eager.

 

Well, now Yamato understood for whom these crappy strings were for.

 

When Taichi stopped, he still had both of his hands under Yamato’s bikini bottoms, holding Yamato’s hips. The grip wasn’t exactly harsh, but it was firm enough and it was obvious that’s all Taichi could do to not rip Yamato’s underwear off.

 

Yamato flushed. Aggressively so. He started getting the impression Taichi bought into the story of Yamato being his girlfriend as much as any of his football lads. The way he was touching Yamato, or saying all sorts of things a person wouldn’t normally say to someone they don’t fuck, was screwing with Yamato’s mind a bit. It wasn’t a bad mind-screw, per-se. It wasn’t the ‘accidently drank mercury and now need a stomach cleanse.’ It was more like tripping on ecstasy. It was also partially his own fault for been enabling Taichi since that time on his roof. It’s like they were wading through unknown waters and were just getting deeper and deeper in. But they were also just fooling around and having fun, so why not? Ever since they became friends, they had a silent agreement about what exactly it was that they needed from one another. This is just more of the same.

 

Taichi met Yamato’s eyes, and with a soft pinch to Yamato’s naked side, he said, “Told you you’d look cute.”

 

He finally let Yamato go and handed him a dress Taichi picked from the package Mimi prepared. It was a light blue which complimented Yamato’s eyes perfectly as far as Taichi was concerned, with a Bardot cut, ruffles across the chest and a flared hem. In other words, Mimi chose for him whatever would hide the fact Yamato was a plankie while underscoring his lush hips and terrific shoulders. Well, Taichi thought they were terrific anyhow and just figured Mimi saw what he saw.

 

“Waaaaait,” Taichi extended the word across a few additional _grindingly_ irking pitches than what was required as he rummaged through his own backpack. Finally, he found a simple, black bobby pin and used it to clip Yamato’s fringe to the side.

 

“Very cute.”

 

Yamato was going to decapitate him!

 

***

 

It was a short bus ride. It was a range of green, grassy knolls which stretched for a few kilometres on either side of the river’s shore. They had the perfect pitch for towels to be thrown on, for bodies to lie on, and for the sun to soak everyone.

 

They were far enough from the travellers in the camp to feel secluded. Taichi and Hana planned this perfectly.

 

Miu, one of the mug’s girlfriends, set a parasol and the majority of the girls automatically migrated to the shaded area under it, along with Yamato who was urged by them to protect his “porcelain” and “Europian” skin.

 

After declining Taichi’s invitation to go into the water with him out of fear of someone pulling off his bikini top, Yamato set his towel next to those of the other girls and turned his gaze to the glistening view of the clear waters. Sunshine rays broke upon their waves – just like it was in the Digital World.

 

Only that instead of the idyllic scenery he capitalized on, Yamato found himself spectating a parade of flesh. Almost a dozen, well-fit, muscular, athletic, broad, strong, manly, beefy, brawny, tall, packed, able men went starkers right in front of him, stripping down to their briefs in a display which turned them into a Calvin Klein commercial _like that_ and Yamato wanted to die. Actually, he wanted to make them lie down in a unified row and roll on them from side to side, going _‘weeeee!’_ as he went _,_ but that wasn’t going to happen, so he wanted to die.

 

“Hey, eyelashes,” a voice appeared above his shoulder. Very fast, it became part of a sleek, chiselled chest which dominated the majority of Yamato’s attentions as its owner sat next to him. Very, very close next to him.

 

“Having a good time?”

 

Eiichi? Was that the bloke’s name? Yamato didn’t actually care whatsoever. He wasn’t here to socialise. If this guy could just _not_ talk and stop distracting Yamato from the sweat droplets rolling down his Terminator abs, that’ll be _mint_. Yamato smiled prettily because that’s what he thought a girl would do in this situation and nodded for the affirmative.

 

For some reason, maybe-Eiichi took that as in invitation to move _even_ closer – because for somehow that was still feasible – and rub himself all over Yamato. Bloody hell, Yamato could tell what the bloke had for breakfast. His breath was all over Yamato’s face.

 

“So what are you doing with your life, peach?”

 

Like, what’s with the _names_?

 

“I take cosmology at T uni.”

 

Potentially-Eiichi gave Yamato a stumped look. “You’re a girl. Won’t you get married soon? Why do you need an education for?”

 

It took every single ounce of Yamato’s will power not to smash a bottle and use the glass to give this bloke a Glasgow smile.

 

“Because it’s common sense,” he said, his intonation aligning into a venomous monotone while his muscles screamed in defiance.

 

If possible, the expression on Supposedly-Eiichi’s stupid mug became stupider, but then he smiled.

 

“You’re cute, but you also have a strong personality. Some guys could find it off-putting, but I get what Taichi sees in you,” he murmured down Yamato’s ear. Maybe he got the idea it was somehow sexy but the only thing Yamato could think was ‘who allowed you, _who_?!’

 

“And I get you too, I mean – the captain of the football team? Respectable. You two look good together. Very photogenic. Was it his title that drew you in or…?”

 

“I think he has sexy eyes.”

 

Yamato was _this_ close snapping. This line of conversation, and what that dumb fuck was insinuating, began making Yamato very uncomfortable. Eiichi-with-high-probability was lucky Yamato was gender bending today. If he weren’t, the footballer’s face would be hung in the Louvre’s modern art section.  

 

Maybe Almost-Certainly-Eiichi sensed he was overstepping his bounds because he miraculously moved back an inch which resulted in him stopping harassing Yamato’s personal-space-bubble with his bodily odours. 

 

“Eyes, ey? Well, I can’t say I ever looked too long at another bloke’s eyes,” he laughed as if assuring his heterosexuality was somehow funny in any way, and stood up. “Enjoy yourself. And if you two don’t work out, you come right over to me, eyelashes, a’right?”

 

“Oi, Atsuji! Get ye’r arse down here! We need one more man for the water fight!” Roman shouted from the river bank.

 

Oh… well, so this wasn’t Eiichi.

 

Turned-out-to-be-Atsuji raised his thumb to Roman, parted with Yamato with a smiling, “Cheers!” and walked away.

               

Yamato watched his firm bum disappear into the water, joining 10 more carbon copies of him, and a very enthusiastic Hana. Taichi was there of course, leading the charge, splashing around, attacking the enemy team on all sides from his place on Ryo’s shoulders and he looked so happy Yamato melted. He wasn’t at all surprised when Taichi’s team won and piggy-backed Hana back to the shore.

 

Oh… oh no. Taichi wore white briefs today. They were tight and soaked, so the whole thing became see-through. The tender, brownish-pink head of his penis was clear under the thin fabric, which clung to his skin _so much_ , and the outline of his shaft was on public display. When he turned around for a moment, he drowned Yamato in the view of his round and sculpted buttocks, contoured by the sheer, dripping cotton that invaded him a bit and exposed the secret location of his crack.

 

Yamato ran his tongue on his lips, lubricating them, and tore off flakes of excess, dry skin. Looking at the way Taichi’s junk went ‘boing’ to one side… then ‘boing’ to the other side… while he was sloshing around, made hot explosions erupt in Yamato’s tummy.

 

What kind of grown-ass man wears white briefs?!

 

Depositing his bum on the beach towel, Taichi folded his arms behind his head and used them as a pillow. The towel twisted a bit between his legs, which were spread and relaxed, riding up his warm inner thighs and lapping at his tan skin.

 

The rest of his mates shuffled behind him and formed a beautiful line of sunbathing boys.

 

Yamato tried to reign in his wayward stare, but he was still left with the mental image of Taichi’s abdominals, sleek with sweat and work-outs and water rivulets which trickled to his belly button. The problem was that it became too easy for Yamato’s brain to insert him into that fantasy. Following the water droplets which were en-route to Taichi’s deltas and licking them, bottom-up, had never been this simple.

 

Thinking became difficult with every passing minute. Except for ‘what a body…’ – Yamato could still think that.

 

 He tried not to stare, but it’s like he was having an out-of-body experience and watching from the side as his facial muscles went on auto-pilot. It wasn’t _him_ now roving Taichi’s body.

 

But it was amazing how that skinny, brash boy with larger-than-life hair grew up into a solid, reliable, and well-formed frame – and Taichi was Yamato’s leader still. That hasn’t changed at all. It’s just that looking at him now was like staring directly into the sun… and that sun was made of sexiness.

 

Yamato never wanted to feel this way about Taichi. It was too difficult. But now he had a clear image in his mind of them on top of each other. Taichi’s kind, caring eyes and his wild smile – two almost contradicting qualities which reside within the same person and imply his bedroom antics could go either way.  That’s what Yamato wanted to know: how would Taichi be in bed? How would he be in bed with _him_? He looked so pretty…. Oh, that’s a dangerous thought. Yamato never wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch Taichi right now. He wanted to shove his head between Taichi’s knees, bite him, suck his skin, make him whine, and then kiss his delicious dick.

 

Shit, he just popped a chubby. Yamato closed his legs as tightly as his thighs let him and crossed his hands over his lap.

 

A commotion burst from below and it brewed into wild cheers. The food cooler entered the scene and it came along with beers.

 

Taichi was the first man there, moving at the speed of teleportation. He grabbed two cans and ran towards the spot Yamato was occupying.

 

Yamato was curled into a tense, reddish blonde ball and seemed embarrassed out of his life.  He spent most of the day in a bikini – Taichi couldn’t fault him for that. But now Taichi’ll bring him beer and make him laugh and make him forget all about it.

 

When he got closer, he noted the warm pink which flourished on Yamato’s cheeks and continued all the way down to his neck, chest, and back. His lips, now redder and fuller, were slightly parted. Eyes glazed, hot and heavy, Yamato looked at Taichi like he wanted to tear him apart with his teeth, slowly roaming across his body till his gaze got stuck between Taichi’s legs. Suddenly, Yamato looked welcoming and very appealing.

 

Oh... Yamato wasn’t embarrassed – he was _aroused_. Yamato _isn’t_ actually Taichi’s girlfriend who should only have eyes for him. Yamato isn’t even a girl. He is a single, gay man surrounded by other muscular, moist, and mostly naked men and was probably feeling shite right now.

 

Taichi put the two cans at Yamato’s feet, slipped a quick, “be right back,” and went to bring over his shirt. He pulled it over his head and sat next to Yamato.

 

“You’re not comfortable,” he stated.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not fine.” Taichi began patting Yamato’s back till Yamato’s muscles relaxed a bit.

 

Yamato raised his eyes to Taichi, really to Taichi – not to his crotch, and smiled a bit. “I am. I knew what I was getting myself into. You think it’s the first time something like this happens? B’sides… view’s gorgeous.”  

 

“You are my girlfriend. Stop checking out other men,” Taichi sniggered and put the beer in Yamato’s hand.

 

“Then take responsibility. You haven’t been fulfilling your boyfriend duties. I’ve been sitting on my own hard-on for almost an hour,” Yamato answered and flicked the pop tab of the beer. The ninnies who brought these flopped the one job they were assigned to and now all the cans were frothing and spilling over. It was a cheap, piss beer that tasted like someone liquefied a fart in hot-dog water, but that was fine. Yamato was hardly selective regarding whatever went into his mouth at this point.

 

After sundown, they set their tents. Some of the couples went for a late swim, a few of the guys were sitting along the shore with the last beers, playing cards, and Hana was building a mud castle with Ryo.

 

Yamato went inside the tent he and Taichi built for themselves and started changing out of his bikini – can’t have that glorious relief from these bloody bondage straps a moment too soon.

 

“Leave it on,” came Taichi’s voice behind him.

 

Yamato’s face probably spelt neuter-you-and-feed-your-bollocks-to-you-through-a-straw , because Taichi downright _recoiled_ before he started making enough sense to convince Yamato otherwise when Yamato’s liberation was only one tug away.

 

“I want to show you something… please?”

 

Yamato’s face went through five different stages before it completed its metamorphosis into a sour little lemon.

 

That’s how Taichi knew Yamato agreed and whipped a pair of swimming trunks out of his bag.

 

Yamato eyed Taichi as he started changing. Shamelessly, Taichi dropped his wet briefs on the tent’s floor and pushed the flesh of his naked, refined posterior into the neon orange trunks.

 

Trying to multi-task, Taichi wanted to ask Yamato to pass him their spare towel, but when he glanced up to him – whoa! Was Yamato checking him out. Taichi’s cheeks heated up and he smiled to himself. It was the second time today and… he felt flattered that Yamato wanted to look at him so much. It made him feel hot and sexy. 

 

“I’m working on my glutens,” he said and flexed his butt.

 

At being caught, Yamato turned his head and twiddled with his sleeping bag. “Why did you flash your dick to the entire bleeding world and its limping mother if you had these?!”

 

Taichi hollered at the evocative image that line planted in his head and answered, “it was a ‘spur of the moment’ thing and it’s all us blokes here. There’s Hana, but she’s like everyone’s sister. The football girlfriends just sorta have their own group, so they don’t even look. They’re kinda like an idol group, really, at this point.”

 

Once he secured the trunks over his waist, Taichi peeped through the flaps of the tent, hoping it won’t take long for his mates to scatter. Then he tugged Yamato’s hand, “let’s go.”

 

Taichi led them along the shore. He didn’t answer Yamato when the latter asked where they were going. Not even after the encampment disappeared from view behind the hill and they entered the forested area.

 

Yamato loved swimming, but due to the act he was pulling for Taichi’s heterosexuality, they couldn’t have fun with each other. So with the cover of night and distance, Taichi wanted to take Yamato somewhere where they could go swimming together, alone.

 

To the crescendoing raucous on the other side, he pushed bushes out of their way and turned around to smile at Yamato, big and wide.

 

Suspicious, Yamato moved past him to the path Taichi opened.

 

“Fuck my life…”

 

Into a moonlit pool, a tall waterfall cascade, spraying them with gentle froth as it pounded on the rocks near the bottom. It was a stellar paradigm of nature’s raw force as well as its internal serenity.

 

Taichi cannonballed into the water. He resurfaced and peeped at Yamato over the waterline, smiling with his eyes.

 

Yamato could _not_ not smile back at him. “How alone are we, exactly?”

 

Taichi proudly lifted his head. “I’m the only one who knows about this place. Hikari and I discovered it when I was ten and mum took us here. It’s also the middle of nowhere so we can be here as much as we want.”

 

Yamato nodded slowly.

 

“Mind if I take this nonsense off?” He gave an exemplifying yank to his bikini.

 

Without waiting for the answer, Yamato started stripping and Taichi said, “I thought you’re a girl now.”

 

“And girls don’t take their clothes off?”

 

Taichi observed him for a little while longer before climbing back to the bank, gravity and water-weight doing a number on his hair, making it fall just above his shoulders.

 

He clutched the two ties holding the bottom piece of Yamato's bathing suit. “Can I do that…?”

 

God, they were awful.

 

Yamato’s breath hitched. “Are you really all right with feeling up a gay man who is naked with you and clearly thinks you have a hot body?”

 

Taichi yanked one knot and tore Yamato’s underwear off of him, fingers skimming over Yamato’s warm skin. “You are not ‘gay man’, you are Yamato and yes, I feel quite good actually. Very healthy.”

 

When his hands dropped to Yamato’s thighs to tickle them a bit, Yamato shoved Taichi away and ripped the bikini top off while hissing, “Come off it, Taichi!”

 

He walked past him and began wading through the water.

 

Taichi watched him and scratched the side of his neck. “Sorry…”

 

By instinct, Yamato would have lashed out. He and Taichi were incredibly irresponsible. Having his legs groped by Taichi here and there because _reasons_ was one thing, but in a few weeks, when he’ll go back to dressing like a man, letting Taichi do what he wants with him now could have atrocious results. It was so unfair because Taichi didn’t have the spontaneous erections, the moral questions, or all these bloody hesitations. It was all in good fun for him. He liked legs and he got them. Tomorrow he’d go and fuck a real girl and that’s it. Nothing happened. In the meanwhile, Yamato will get to masturbate into a sock to a what-could-have-been scenario. Still, this place was far too beautiful to waste, so somehow he ended up looking back at Taichi with quirked lips.

 

“I don’t really wanna get a boner right now, you get me?”

 

Taichi apologised again, thought for a moment, and divested himself of his swimming trunks.

 

“Bloody hell, Taichi, what are you trying to do?”

 

“I always wanted to go skinny dipping.” Taichi grinned and charged straight ahead, pushing Yamato under.

 

A water fight erupted very fast and ended with Taichi needing to take a breather. He left his arms reclining against the shore and watched Yamato swim around, his toned muscles contracting.

 

“Oi, Taich!”

 

Taichi nodded once to indicate he heard him.

 

Yamato signalled with his head to the top of the fall.

 

Always up for a wild ride, Taichi joined him and they climbed the boulders, up to the ledge from which the walls of water spilled.

 

For this particular activity, going starkers may not have been Taichi’s best life-choice. He had a silent paranoia about one of these jutted rocks slicing off his prick. Still, the view from up here was stunning. And Yamato…

  

“Who do you think is the hottest guy on the team?”

 

Yamato shrugged noncommittedly. “I’d fuck all of them, honestly. Roman has good shoulders. Kenji has the best legs…” He tried not to smile, so his lip line curved into a weird squiggly line. “You have a pretty cute bum…”

 

“Ya, I know.” Unlike Yamato, the sides of Taichi’s lips went sky-high. “Roman’s an arsehole, though.”

 

“I don’t need him to be fucking Mother Theresa. Just to have a penial erection.”

 

Taichi nodded and went silent for a while. The idea of Roman having his pig-sausage fingers all over Yamato did not sit well with Taichi at all and he didn’t want to think about it.

 

Yamato’s knee was brushing against his. Taichi placed his palm on it and stroked along Yamato’s kneecap with his thumb.

 

Yamato let him. It was fine. Between the two of them, it wasn’t about meaningful words. It was about meaningful silences.

 

“It’s so weird you have leg fetish…” he mumbled.

 

“It’s mostly to yours, though. I mean, what’s better than a person with beautiful legs wearing black stockings?”

 

“That’s even weirder.”

 

There was nothing much for Taichi to say, so he diverted the conversation to something he considered jaw-dislocatingly funny. “Wanna know what they think about you?”

 

“Who?”

 

“My mates.”

 

Yamato reclined back an inch, easing the pressure on his elbows, which helped him to sit upright so far, and stared into the star-sparked distance. “Don’t really care. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“They say you have a face touched by angels.”

 

Yamato snorted. “Honestly, I rather my face be touched by fresh dicks.”

 

 “You sound so desperate, you know? I mean, you’re _thirsty._ ”

 

“I’m surrounded by hot men who spend most of the day running around half-naked and you expect me not to be? Blud, I’m not thirsty – I’m bloody _dehydrated_. I’m gonna get a limp wrist when we get home.”

 

“Fair. But just so you know, you really charmed the pants off everyone here.” Taichi squished Yamato’s inner thigh as if he was evaluating quality Kobe beef on the market. “How’s it like to have sex with men?”

 

“How’s it like to have sex with women?”

 

“Touché”

 

“Anal orgasms are amazing, though,” Yamato said and nodded knowingly with a smirk plastered on his face.

 

“How amazing?” Taichi turned to look at him with one sceptically raised eyebrow. 

 

“They are more like a woman’s. You have this insane build up and then you go off like a Fukoshima.”

 

Taichi hummed and his finger pads travelled along the side of Yamato’s right thigh. They stayed like that for almost an hour, listening to the water spilling and talking about all sorts of meaningless rubbish, a bit about the future, and about that one time or the other.

 

They sneaked into the camp and crawled into their sleeping bags.

 

“Hey, I have reception,” Yamato announced, holding his phone above his head, illuminating himself.

 

“What?” Taichi prodded when a small, gentle smile visited Yamato’s luscious lips. God, did Yamato have luscious lips. How did he not have a boyfriend yet? This mystery will never cease to amaze Taichi. “What’re you staring at?”

 

Instead of waiting for an answer, Taichi yanked the phone from Yamato’s hand and peeked at whatever made Yamato so happy. He ended up with the same expression Yamato had.

 

Mimi left Yamato a bunch of texts, asking him how he was doing, if he needed her to bring him something, and if he wanted to have a Tequila girl’s night out with her. It was really sweet.

 

“Send her my love.” Taichi plopped the phone on Yamato’s chest and curled his arms under his head.

 

The wind outside picked up something fierce and the tent’s walls slapped Yamato’s face like he was their bitch. The nylon cloth pieces were whipping and lashing, making obnoxious noises, going ‘wooosh! Wooosh! WOOOOOOSH!’

 

They could be blown off at any moment.

 

“Think there’s a typhoon?” Yamato asked and was answered with a beastly snore. 

 

***

 

Yellow flakes crusted on Yamato’s lids and he was still in the process of scraping them off and scavenging their multi-layered depths to try and find his eyes-balls. He barely got a shut-eye at night before some dirty tent piece jumped on his face and began half-rubbing and half bitch-slapping him. By the time he pushed it off him, he was awake again. That fucking cycle lasted through the entire bloody night!

 

He expected a storm when he exited the tent.

 

There wasn’t any.

 

The sky was a continuous sheet in an impeccable shade of bright and sunny blue without a speck of a cloud in it and only a very gentle breeze lapped at Yamato’s skin.

 

He looked around him and shoved his head back into the tent.

 

“Taichi! Why is your bleeding tent such a fucking drama queen?!”

 

Taichi woke up with a start, just in time to see Yamato’s ankles storm off.

 

He was a cranky bastard all throughout breakfast and absolutely refused to produce anything more intelligible than disgruntled growls at Taichi all throughout the ride back to the city. Not to mention supply any explanation to his foul mood. 

 

The first time he deigned acting human again was when they reached Koushiro’s to pick up the Digimons.

 

Agumon and Gabumon were in the cyber-space program, sitting on a porch overlooking what seemed to be the French Riviera, stuffing their maws with expensive cheeses and rose chocolates. 

 

Smirking, Yamato elbowed Taichi in the ribs.

 

“Taichi, why don’t you ever take me to nice places like this?!”


	4. We Throw Tantrums Like Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Another chapter. I'm sorry posting takes so long between these, it's just that they are kinda lengthy 0.0  
> Also, I have one more exam on the 18th, so it would take chapter 5 even longer to appear - sorry about that! Warnings for this chapter: sexy times and spiked drinks.

“Let’s party our nipples off!”

 

After she was done chirpsing with a few blokes, Mimi and her bedazzled-to-the-gods sequin dress dragged Yamato to the laminated dance floor. She glanced back at him and was extremely proud of herself for convincing Yamato to wear her Stuart Weitzman’s Highlands at this debut she planned for him. With legs like his, it would be a sin not to!

 

This night will go like a bomb!

 

Sora and Jyou stayed at the bar. She was nursing hot sangria, he was sipping a merlot, and they were talking about moving in together.

 

Those were not only the high heels which made Yamato uncomfortable or caused his chest to constrict. There were eyes on his thighs, on his arse, on his belly, everywhere he went, that tried getting under his clothes. He felt sick.

 

The ultra-violet coloured lights bouncing off the huge mirror chandelier on the ceiling penetrated his retinas at random angles. His head spun around. The entire weird interior design of the club, with its neon-illuminated, un-geometrical lines was overrunning his senses.

 

When they got to the centre of the room, Mimi helped him stabilize himself and started moving her body to the beat. He studied her motions and looked down at his feet.

 

“Mimi,” he yelled over the pounding R&B, “how am I supposed to dance with these bloody skyscrapers?!”

 

Mimi positioned her hands on his hips, trying to guide his posture. “Don’t move your feet so much,” she shouted back at him, “pump up your knees and shake your delicious booty!”

 

Standing up in these boots for so long really did run a number on his feet, especially on the pads and toes, but Mimi was real stellar. She twirled him around and told jokes. She was chuffed and fun and distracted him from the pain.

 

Into the fourth song they were swaying to, a soft tap hit his shoulder. The finger touching him belonged to the classic sub-genre of men who were tall, dark and handsome, but not too tall, dark and handsome for it to be an utter cliché.

 

“I need to give my friend a ringer,” Mimi picked up her phone and nestled it between her ear and shoulder like the timing is not just ultra-convenient, while discreetly signalling Yamato with her eyebrows. “I’ll be right back, doll. Have fun.”

 

Exploiting their newfound privacy, the man, whose name Yamato very quickly discovered to be Makoto, danced up to Yamato’s body and matched his motions.

Further details Yamato learned about him in between songs: single – good, likes dogs – very good, resides in Tokyo – sweet, High tech engineer – yas, baby, yas! Is 31… doable.

 

About himself, Yamato barely talked at all. He tried making only a minimal use of his voice lest the tone coming out of him was more bass than was befitting of a girl.

 

Later, he let Makoto escort him to the sofas in the back and fetch them a couple of drinks. “…But you have to drink with me and then we’ll see how it goes from there,” Makoto conditioned before making the order but after promising Yamato a good time.

 

The sofas were of the variety which pretended to be luxurious, but a closer inspection revealed the quilt pattern on the cushions was formed by stapling parts of it into the wood and the fabric itself wasn’t anything fancy either. It was all perfectly adequate, though,  for getting a bit pissed with some medium-strong liquor and a handsome man on whose lap Yamato could sit.

 

Makoto slung his arm around Yamato’s shoulder and stroked the fine hairs lining his nape while they sipped their alcohol. Makoto had his Scotch while Yamato was paired up with a strawberry mojito which came complimented by a matching pink straw for whatever bizarre reason. It was hardly his booze of choice and nowhere near strong enough.

Well, it wasn’t undrinkable either and he just needed it to go to his head anyway.  

 

Light pressure pressed on the back of Yamato’s neck, pulling him forward towards the classy man in front of him. He beamed and leaned forward towards Makoto’s face.

Only instead of melding into a deep, hard, out-of-this-world snogging session, the hand on Yamato’s head pushed him beneath the table where a heavy, manly bulge was waiting for attention. 

Yamato tore the intruding fingers out of his hair and straightened up, murder radiating from his eyes and his skin prickling with his complete willingness to execute it.

“What the shit you think you’re doing?!” he hissed, menacingly.

Yet for some reason, the bellend in front of him didn’t seem phased at all. If anything, Yamato’s reaction brought him a mild, if surprised, amusement. “Why are you being so hysteric? I thought you’re a fun girl.”

Yamato blinked – first slowly and then a few times on repeat. He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“Look, luv, you can’t expect me to control myself when you look like _this_ , alright?” Makoto slipped a hand under Yamato’s skirt and cupped himself a feel of Yamato’s bum. _Eh!_ He gave it a hard squeeze. “I can’t help it, it’s a biological drive.”

 

Mouth agape from here to Sunday, Yamato stared at him. He couldn’t even move to wrench this fucker’s gnarly hand off his arse.

 

Makoto rolled his eyes as if Yamato was daft or something. “What did you think? You’re not exactly the kind of girl to bring home.” He grabbed Yamato’s wrist and pulled him down to the couch. “No one dates a girl who puts out. It’s like a key and a keyhole. A key that opens many holes is a good key, but a keyhole that can be opened by many keys is a bad hole. We’re here to fuck, so stop playing the holy virgin and suck me, beautiful.”

 

Instincts kicking in, Yamato grabbed the remains of his mojito, and poured them straight into that arsehole’s eye sockets. With burning pink goo in his eyeballs, Makoto shrieked his soul out of his ugly throat, and Yamato launched himself off of him, making sure to mash his bollocks under his weight as he got up.

“Wanker!”

He stalked to the bar, where he could say hi to Sora and Jyou and drown his sorrows.

Mimi waved at him enthusiastically upon spotting him in the crowd, but sobered up the moment he was close enough for her to decipher his expression.

 

“Pretty baby, what’s wrong?” she asked.

 

Yamato really didn’t feel like emoting all over her, so naturally he ended up retching a flow of verbal vomit in her general direction, past the lump stuck in his wind-pipes.

 

She managed to piece together a fairly clear image, though, and wrapped both her arms around him.

 

“That’s jokes! Ignore him! He’s just an ugly-ass bitch saying some ugly-ass shit, is all,” she slagged.

 

Yamato only half-way listened to her. His blood was pumping in his brain and his pulse soared. There was a scratch mark on the wooden surface of the bar and suddenly it was the most curious thing in the world. He traced his finger along its outlines – back and forth, back and forth – and he swore he could sit here and do it all day.

 

Mimi followed his unremitting motions with mounting worry. “Want me to call Taichi?”

 

A frown contorted Yamato’s pretty, red lipstick. “I don’t need him to be my mummy.”

 

“Cause you want him to be your daddy, preferably with a cigarette loosely hanging from your mouth…” she mumbled over the rim of her glass.

 

“… What?”

 

“What?”

 

***

“Hello…?” Taichi rumbled into the phone line, barely opening his eyes.

 

“Can you come here and pick Yamato up?” Mimi’s concerned voice sieved over the background music.

 

“Mimi, Yamato can handle himself. Just look at the pile of chavs and slags he left in his wake last in high school.”

 

Taichi tossed around, pushed Koromon off his pillow, and threw his blanket over his head. The clock on his phone told him it was 2 AM and begged him he went back to sleep.

 

“I get it, but I think someone slipped him something bad. Maybe Crystal, I don’t know. Me and Sora cleaned him up, but-”

 

“Cleaned him up from what?” Taichi was suddenly very much awake.

 

A leaden pause took over the line.

 

 

“Did you call the police…?”

 

 

Mimi sighed heavily. “It was just all the usual bollocks. Apparently, that arsehole is some politician’s son, so after asking Yamato if he got sodomized ten times over and over again, where, how, in which position and if he came, they said they’d look into it an hung up.” She took a long suction of air and exhaled it methodically, as if willing herself to calm down. “I don’t really know if they’ll really do something with that or dismiss it. We did find the guy and saved another girl from being drugged, so there is at least that. After that, Yamato –”   

 

 

Everything Mimi told him from that point on was weird and scary for Taichi. Often, Taichi could go on jumping through rings of fire and Yamato was in charge of cooling him off and reeling him in. But so easily, Yamato had more than what it takes in him to go crazy reckless and fall off the lines. Then, he needed Taichi. They balanced each other. That’s just what they did. But Taichi never thought Yamato could be like this. Not even after a spiked drink. Yamato didn’t like the exhibition.

 

 

“Where are you?” He cut her off when listening to her descriptions became nauseating.

 

“The TK night club at Shibuya.”

 

“On my way.”

 

He was out of the house in less than a minute, looking like a travesty with his cuffed joggers and sandals-on-socks. While fastening his seat belt, he called the Ishida’s house phone to inform Gabumon Yamato will be staying over at Taichi’s.

 

If there was one certainty Taichi had, it was how Yamato would never want to show his arseholed self to Gabumon. 

Taichi bypassed the platitudes usually required to get through security easy enough. Apparently, the bouncer at the entrance to the club was a football fan.

 

Finding Mimi and the gang wasn’t hard after he got his hand stamped and walked in. Sora’s blazing red hair was ever the effective beacon.

 

All three of them were huddled around a tall figure named Yamato, who was arguing, yelling, and trying to fight out of Mimi’s grip on his wrists.

 

When Jyou took a step to the side and revealed Yamato in all his full-bodied glory, Taichi’s heart took a route down his underpants and then made a shortcut to his throat through his stomach. Taichi had to try and breathe steadily around it.

 

With his flushed skin, glazed eyes, tight and silky black skirt, cropped white cardigan, and those fetish boots, Yamato was too sexy for his own good. It’s not that he wasn’t normally, but right now he was all polished allure and forbidden appeal.

 

 

Who the hell told Yamato he was allowed to walk around in silky, slinky things?!

 

 

Somehow, Yamato spotted Taichi in the crowd and his entire demeanour changed.

 

He freed himself from Mimi’s grip and wobbled towards Taichi, teeth on full display between his manically stretched lips.

 

He practically crashed into Taichi’s arms, which caught him just before Yamato planted his stupid face in the floor’s plaster, and giggled into Taichi’s ear. “I’m a bit loosey-goosey!” He slurred and plummeted on Taichi’s shoulder, forehead first.

 

Taichi secured his arms around the barmy, thrilling body and started dragging his positively mental best friend towards the door. “Com’on, you nutter. Let’s go home.”

“But _Taichi_!” Yamato whined, prolonging Taichi’s name into a dog’s pitched howl, “Everyone loves me! And they’re _so_ drunk, Taichi! They didn’t even notice I don’t have a vagina! I just held my thighs real’ tight! …Maybe this one bloke noticed I got a dick, but he didn’t care… Taichi! You should see me fuck… I’m the best piece of arse in east Asia.”

 

 

Taichi focused on leading Yamato to the safety and concealment of his car, breathing.

 

 

He helped Yamato into the passenger seat and deposited himself back behind the steering wheel. He sat… and he sat… and he sat… and he sat, watching, but not seeing the teeming streets of Shibuya rage and rave with star-bright neon lights and dazzling humans.

 

 

Something touched his upper arm. The motion was something between a nudge and a brush, really asking for his attention.

 

 

Yamato looked at him with big, moist eyes and all Yamato’s former bravado was gone.

 

 

“Taichi… you know, it’s so much better than a Hattenba or the saunas. At least I didn’t have to wait to be picked up by wrinkled cruisers,” he snorted. “They’re always over their 40s, fuck you for 10 minutes, and then wanna spend 30 more minutes trying to make you act like they were the best fuck you’ve ever had because they know they aren’t shit.”

 

 

Taichi stared at him, taking in Yamato’s dishevelled hair, his sweat, and his sadness. “Do you really do these things…?”

 

 

“Drive.”

 

 

Yamato stared out the window, passing cars throwing light on his face for moments before flashing back into darkness, and wiped his palms against his skirt. “City’s a whorehouse when you’re young, queer, and into sex,” he said morosely when they exited the parking space. “I’d probably fuck almost anyone who shows an interest in me. I’m just like you, you get me? I want to feel wanted by people I’m attracted to.”

 

 

Without having the rudimentary sense of knowing how to react to that, Taichi drove into the intersection which will take them up the Rainbow Bridge and didn’t say anything.

 

 

When the song on the radio ended, just before he was about to switch the station, Taichi heard the hectic choking sounds which usually escorted crying.

 

 

 

“Why the only thing they want is to put their dicks up my arse?!” Yamato shouted at the glove compartment. He threw his hands on his face, covering all of it, and silently sobbed into them, trying to swallow anything else which was about to come out of him and regretting everything that already did. His body was wracked.

 

 

Yellow light switched to red and Taichi grabbed one of Yamato’s hands, peeled it off his face and squeezed it tightly, maybe harsher than he intended.

 

 

Seemingly, it wasn’t much, but it was just right and Yamato quieted down some. His head slumped against the window and he went back to viewing the racing nightly scenes as they appeared and disappeared from him just as fast in strokes of light and shadowy colours.

 

 

“Do you think I look good…?” he asked, tired and subdued, when they made a left near the Ferris wheel at Palette town.

 

 

Careful not to drop his eyesight from the road for too long, Taichi glimpsed at him. Yamato’s complexion is glass. When he wasn’t falling over, the heels he wore made him sway and accentuated his bum when he walked while calling attention to his gently muscled legs. His skirt grabbed his curves.

 

 

 “Yeah, I think you look good.”

 

 

“Do you think I’ll look good with my arse all oiled up and spanked?”

 

 

Taichi almost did a car accident. He stopped on the side-lines and eyed Yamato only to find himself staring into a nasty, almost cruel smirk.

 

 

“Remember that modelling agency you wanted me to check?” He asked and without expecting an answer. “They do ero stuff and playboy. That agent was _delighted_ when I called him and told me all about the poses he wants me in and how he’ll get the makeup team to spill oil and lube all over my bum so it will shine when I’ll lift my skirt.”

 

 

“What did you say…?” Taichi both needed and dreaded the answer.

 

 

“That I’ll ask my ‘boyfriend’ what he thinks and get back to them. So, what do you think, _boyfriend_?”

 

 

Anger rapidly replaced Taichi’s sympathy and it sunk into his arteries like bad poison. “Are you taking the piss?! Having fun, aren’t you?!”

 

 

Yamato’s eyes started manufacturing fresh tears he attempted sniffing back in, insanely hurt. “Does it look to you like I’m having fun….?" 

 

“I’m sorry.” Taichi shot, more tersely than he originally planned to, and restarted the engine.

                                            

Yamato rummaged for something beneath his seat and salvaged the water bottle usually buried there. He swung his head back and swallowed its contents down in huge gulps. “You know, Taichi, I really like onomatopoeias. Like bottle. Bottle. Bottle. Bottle…”

 

And he didn’t say anything else till they parked in front of Taichi’s residence building.

 

Taichi flung the door open and exited first. He went all the way over to Yamato’s side to help him to his dumb wobbly feet – which on any other day would have resulted in a part embarrassed, part violent outbreak. But now Yamato was perfectly complacent. He let Taichi take both of his hands and help him up. 

 

They didn’t go upstairs. Not immediately.

 

Somehow, they end up leaning on Taichi’s car and staring at the starscape. Taichi kept his right hand on Yamato’s left hip in case that basket case tripped over. His left hand was used to make the metal shield of his dad’s Toyota more accommodating to Taichi’s head.

 

“I’ll make you black coffee in the morning. Atsuji taught me how to make authentic Bedouin coffee with cardamom and everything. Not sure if it work on crashes like it does for hangovers, but we’re gonna try.”

 

Yamato giggled quietly into the night. “You are really manly, Taichi.” 

 

He took half a step closer to Taichi’s body and the distance between them shrunk drastically. They held eye contact and then Yamato dipped his head to the nook between Taichi’s shoulder and his neck.

 

Yamato’s warm breath and the sway of the fine hairs on his nape tingled Taichi’s face. Taichi pressed Yamato to him, to his torso, to his legs, to his arms, and Yamato instinctively let him do it, curling an arm around Taichi’s neck.

 

It’s funny how, as a “girl”, Yamato had “permission” to do this. To get intimate with someone like _this_. It had nothing to do with sex. To be taken care of, unhindered by the usual voice in his head screaming at him to always be the one in control and distanced from displaying too much emotion, was absolutely lovely.  The other men he was with were more the zbang-and-go-home type, so they never stayed for the pillow talk. It’s not that he’d want to make a habit out of this, but it could be nice to have the option.

 

“Yamato…”

 

Taichi sounded like he’d hold back, but he didn’t.

 

“You look really good,” voice low, heavy, sensitive. He dropped his arm to Yamato’s waist and rubbed gentle circles to the small of his naked back. He leaned forward, trapping Yamato between his body and the car, taking in his form next to his. “You are really beautiful. All of you.”

 

“Girl” or not, Yamato wanted to show Taichi what being here with him meant to him.

 

He lifted his head from Taichi’s shoulder. His nose brushed gently with Taichi’s nose and now their brows touched. He lowered his lips and butterflied Taichi’s lips, barely.  Like he didn’t want to leave proof he was there after this moment would end. Though he ended up feeling as though, until today, he had never been kissed before.

 

At the same time, he thought how stupid this is. He should be able to have these kinds of talks with Taichi and to be this comfortable regardless of what he wears or how drunk, high, or otherwise brain-fucked he was. Having a dick shouldn’t dictate things like this. All these demagogic rules regarding how people should behave or how to label themselves are just arbitrary.

 

 

Even when he won’t be a “girl”, Yamato wanted to be with Taichi like this. Of course, when he’d be back to wearing briefs, Taichi would probably not be attracted to him and not want to touch Yamato the way he does now.

 

Yamato pressed his body to Taichi as much as bones and matter density allowed him to. As though the contact of the bare skins would allow for osmosis and Yamato could soak in all the thoughts essential to Taichi that Taichi had of him and feel them about himself as well.

 

Taichi’s fingers twined and untwined the baby hairs on Yamato’s nape. “You should go to sleep,” he whispered.

 

Yamato raised his head to look at him, but Taichi’s eyes were somewhere far away, in the distance and its sky of exploding stars.

 

He took a step back and pulled Yamato off the car with him. He still helped Yamato and kept him balanced, but he wasn’t holding him with as much effort put behind it.

 

The lift ride was quiet. Taichi was counting the stains on the floor and Yamato followed the angular line of Taichi’s jaw. When the metal box ‘binged’ and the doors rattled open, Taichi dragged Yamato to his flat, still with the silent treatment, fumbled with keys, and let them in.

 

They snuck to Taichi’s room, where Yamato thumped, collapsing, on the lower of the bunk-beds and stared at Taichi, who was changing out of his joggers and still not saying anything.

 

Yamato lowered his gaze and twiddled with a splinter which was making its way out of the beams holding the upper bed in place. “All the guys I want are always taken…” He whispered, but he knew Taichi heard him. “Night’s been a real banger.” He moved his eyes back to Taichi and met _his_ this time. “I mean it. Do you know what it’s like for us to feel hot and wanted? Do you know what it’s like for a gay man to have tons of hot guys after me? You have no idea how hard it is to find cute men who won’t lose their shit after a one-off.” Yamato scoffed. “Not to mention a boyfriend. Can you imagine what it’s like for me to be desired by someone I can want? To be lusted after and feel pretty… maybe even have love-” he snorted at the term, mirthlessly mocking the words which were coming out of his mouth, “have love made to me…”

 

Taichi watched him thrusting a leg over to the side, lifting his skirt and trying to scratch his arse. The action revealed a small heart doodled on the left side of Yamato’s bum with a red sharpie. Instantly, Taichi was both pissed off and stupid aroused.

 

Maybe it showed on his face because when Yamato glimpsed at him again, his facial expression was void of the resentment it carried moment ago. Instead, Yamato’s mouth fell open a bit, maybe in confusion and maybe-

 

“Taichi,” Yamato reached out his hand for Taichi to take, “come to me…”

An internal deliberation took place in Taichi’s mind before he obeyed. He’d say goodnight to Yamato and promise him he’d be there in the morning. Yamato would be quiet and fall asleep quicker.

 

When Taichi was close enough to him, Yamato grabbed one of Taichi’s hands in both of his and felt it up with fingers all around Taichi’s. His droopy eyes were fixated on whatever he was doing there like that piece of bone and meat was the most important, most precious thing in the world to him.

 

Then Yamato put Taichi’s hand on his exposed tummy and slid it up under his fuzzy cardigan. He let it stay there for a while but eventually he pulled it further along his skin, under his satin barrette, till it was lying on naked chest. “Wanna touch them?”

 

With an instinct he couldn’t fight, Taichi squeezed.

 

His lips a smile, Yamato grabbed Taichi's unoccupied hand, joining it with the other.

 

Taichi’s heart slammed against his rib cage. Following a smooth and flat body, Yamato’s chest was almost like a girl’s. The pert bumps under his clothes were swollen and sexy and since they were sensitive from the pumping, Yamato whimpered a bit.

 

“Some guy told me I have adorable little nips. That they are so pink, they’re a man’s wet dream,” Yamato said. “It made my loins all frothy.”

 

He straightened his gaze with Taichi’s and wasn’t so infantile any longer. “If you want this body, you can have it.” Splitting his ankles from one another, the vacant triangle Yamato’s legs opened on each of Taichi’s sides demanded filling. He secured his shins on Taichi’s hips and dropped his arms behind his head in submission.

 

“It’s not like I don’t know you want me.”

 

Taichi closed his eyes and took a very long, sobering breath. Yamato was breaking chinks into his moral compass.

“Next time.” He pushed Yamato’s legs off of him and gave them back to Yamato.

 

He grabbed the jumper strewn over the recliner of his chair and hurled it at the sprawling boy-man on his bed for him to cover his stupid arse. “You can have the room. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

 

Taichi pulled out his extra pillow and stayed in the bedroom just enough time to witness Yamato inhale the scent of the jumper before cuddling into it, like it was his security blanket. “It feels like you’re hugging me,” He hummed, pleased, and buried his nose in the fabric again. With the cutest sleepy eyes, Yamato cooed softly into his pillow, almost like how babies make those little sounds when they are content.

 

Taichi’s ears almost dropped. Jesus, Yamato was _adorable_ when he was high.

 

***

 

Taichi woke up and scratched his stomach. Outside was late morning, but his mum and Agumon let him sleep in, bless their soul.

 

He swung his legs over the sofa’s cushion till his feet connected with the floor, but gave himself another whole minute of staying horizontal before forcing the rest of his body to follow.

 

This was not a day to be responsible, but he had a passed-out best friend on his bed – so no break for Taichi today.

 

When he opened the door to his room, as gently as possible so to not rouse a potentially slumbering Yamato and suffer the brand of Yamato’s usual morning arseholery, he was met with a pair of droopy, slightly moist blues.

 

Yamato was still tucked under the covers, Taichi’s jumper covering him up to his neck. His eyes blinked tiredly and his lids paused at the centre of his eyeball, in a half-lidded, sleepy state. “Good morning…” he slurred and ducked his chin under the blanket.

 

Taichi’s weight was added along Yamato’s on the bed. Yamato’s sheet was momentarily lifted to include Taichi under it.

 

“How are you feeling?” Taichi asked, keeping the tone of his voice low. He tried being considerate of Yamato’s hangover-headache, or whatever it was that the aftereffect of Meth is called.

 

That was very sweet. 

 

Yamato hummed groggily. “I’m all right. Head hurts. Nothing serious.” He turned on his side so that he and Taichi were lying face to face. “Thank you for picking me up yesterday…” he whispered.

 

“Don’t worry about it…” Taichi answered just as quietly.

 

Yamato closed his eyes. His mouth produced lazy morning sounds. He didn’t want to get up or think. He was warm. He was comforted. The smell around him – Taichi’s smell – was invasive, but familiar. It had a tang of morning sweat in it, but it was fine. Taichi’s body was introducing additional warmth to the space under the duvet. If Yamato’d stay here and not go anywhere, he could be happy.

 

Taichi indulged him. He didn’t say anything or force Yamato to do something so, for a while, they stayed in bed, enjoying silence as it came.

 

Eventually, though, Yamato’s knickers from last night started getting blotchy, wet, stained, itchy – maybe even urinated on – and just yuk on the overall. Everything he was wearing, actually – it was rank.

 

His cardigan was tossed on the floor and he fumbled with it till he found the pocket and the extra pair of lingerie Mimi packed for him – just in case he got picked up by a shag-able dick and wouldn’t have come home for the night.

 

Well… here he is.

 

Begrudgingly, he peeled himself off the mattress. This wasn’t going to be a strip show, though. He hauled everything he had on him on the floor in seconds and shoved himself into a matching set of pink knickers with a star pattern on their lace and a matching, ruffled bra top. It had no padding and no underwire and was basically just meant for flat-chested girls to hide their nipples.

 

His rush, however, didn’t prevent Taichi from feasting on the suddenly expanding view of milky skin and he had to make an active effort to resist the urge of running his fingers all over Yamato’s hips.

 

These panties were adorable and Yamato’s bum looked fantastic in them. It’s like they gave it a small push-up and defined his curves, making his backside look like an apple – very round and soft. If it weren’t for that blasted red heart there which made Taichi fucking livid, he’d be able to suppress the plethora of moral and personal questions running through his mind every time he wanted to touch Yamato recently.

 

“Stop staring at my arse!” Yamato howled. It was just the obligatory show, though. _Usually_ he’d be pissed off when someone looked at him like that, but, from Taichi, it was great. Shit.

 

Without missing a beat, Taichi said, “I’m not staring at your arse. I’m staring at the pussy-pink lace _on_ your arse.”

 

Yamato swung at him. Taichi dodged and, using Yamato’s momentum against him, pulled him down to the bed. He rolled them around so that Yamato’s body was beneath his and moved the stray fringe off Yamato’s face with the back of his fingers to look at him.

 

The tension coiling around Yamato was almost tangible. He put in everything he had to stop himself from arching up and grinding himself on Taichi’s leg like a bitch poodle. Taichi smirked and slowly dipped his head to Yamato’s ear.

 

“I’m gonna kick your arse in Mario Kart.”

 

Taichi pulled back up instantly, suspending himself on his arms, both to capture the hilarious expression of distilled fury on Yamato’s face and be in position to evade his brutal fist if it launched.

 

He didn’t get either, though. For a few moments, Yamato stared at him with absolutely nothing on his face. He grabbed Taichi by the collar of his shirt and used it to hoist himself up till their noses almost bumped and there was nothing in Taichi’s field of vision except Yamato.

 

“I will throw you so far off the rainbow level, next time you’ll see Yoshi it will be in Pride.”

 

Wildly hollering like a loon, Taichi lost his balance and crushed on Yamato’s left arm.

 

“Ow! Fuck,” Yamato wailed, “get off me, you fatarse!”

 

“No, you!” Taichi stuck out his tongue and pounced towards his game cabinet to fish out Mario Kart. He didn’t find it, though, and they ended up going PvP on an ancient Mortal Kombat copy he found instead.

 

For almost an hour, Yamato kicked Taichi’s fatty little butt in Mortal Kombat, beating his Goro into a red mist. Taichi reckoned that since Yamato was gaming less, Taichi’d stand a chance, but little did he know Yamato’s drummer was a Mortal Kombat freak and made Yamato compete against him every time he smoked his bong and got the munchies. When Taichi whined, “I can’t believe this!” Yamato told him, as a simple fact and without an ounce of condescendence, “life is an illusion and I am the debunker.”

 

At some point, Agumon joined them and for some reason, despite having claws for hands, served them their arses on a plate.  

 

Next game, they played co-op on Diablo 2. Agumon sat it out and simply watched.

 

“Kill it! Kill it dead!” Taichi shouted over Yamato’s head as Yamato’s assassin avatar was backstabbing Mephisto.

 

“Kill it, Yamato!” Agumon chorused.

 

They endured terrible woes and almost critical loses when Taichi’s druid ran out of hit points and they completely depleted their stash of greater health potions, _but,_ at the end – victory! Glorious victory!

 

Taichi woot-wooted before he proceeded to jump around the room with the ethics of a cannoning rubber ball. Agumon jumped with him and mimicked whatever Taichi was doing.

 

In quick succession, Taichi dived into his bed, behind Yamato, and started rolling from side to side. At the same time Agumon smelt food in the kitchen and left them to their devices.

 

Bobbing his head from shoulder to shoulder to produce snaps from his bones and release the tension he required to stab the keys on his remote and kill that final boss, Yamato stretched in every which way. He threw his body backwards and ended up luxuriously sprawled on Taichi’s stomach. 

 

They stayed in that position for some time. Taichi’s belly was rising and falling methodically, lifting and dropping Yamato’s upper back along with it. Yamato almost, _almost_ felt like a baby being rocked. It was very relaxing. He stretched over Taichi’s body and crossed his arms over his eyes, as if to shield them from the light, enjoying the sounds of laziness.

 

Taichi shifted beneath him a bit and Yamato was trying to adjust, but when he moved his head, he came face to face with a very prominent bulge poking out of Taichi’s trousers.

 

Hesitantly, slowly, Yamato looked up at Taichi and Taichi looked back with and ocean of questions spilling from his half-lidded eyes. His breaths were shallow and their staccato triggered Yamato’s own to match their rhythm.

 

Yamato though for a moment, but then decided there was nothing to think about. He wanted to be kind to Taichi.

 

He guided his fingers up Taichi’s thighs, buying himself time to decide if he really wanted to do this. Then, he rubbed gentle circles around Taichi’s crotch. For the first time, he explored how his hand looked cupping the hard junk under Taichi’s zip-area. Yamato swallowed saliva. He shifted back to Taichi, whose chest swayed up and down and his face was falling out of focus.

 

When Yamato moved his hands to the waistband of Taichi’s domestic joggers, though, Taichi grabbed his arms and carefully moved Yamato off of him.

 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he shot and got off the bed. Taichi headed towards the door, pausing only to pick up a fresh change of clothes, and left Yamato alone with a declining mood and a matching, declining erection to keep Yamato company.

 

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course Taichi wouldn’t want another bloke to rub all over his junk! Fuck! Just because Taichi had a leg fetish and Yamato’s pair happened to appease his criteria, didn’t mean Taichi wanted to take it further! God!

 

Yamato almost grabbed all his personal belongings from the floor and catapulted out of the flat – but he didn’t want to leave things _this_ awkward between them.

 

He stared at the ‘Game Over’ screen without seeing it. The moment Taichi comes back, Yamato’d apologise for misreading the situation and go home. 

 

He picked up all the clothes scattered on the carpet, both his and Taichi’s, folded them neatly, put them on the night table so he’d have a quick access to them, and those were all the actions he could do before he ran out of distractions. He’d clean Taichi’s room, but not only was it uncharacteristically tidy for a change, he also didn’t fancy saying “hi” to Yuuko in his current state of frilly undress. There was nothing left for him to do except wait.

 

While waiting, Yamato unplugged the PlayStation from its port and surfed mindlessly through the channels on the idiot box. He paused on the foreign film channel when one of the French, homoerotic, crime dramas Yamato fancied blinked at him. He turned around to comfortably lie on his tummy and was immersed in the gay sex on the screen in seconds.

 

Yamato didn’t care if that moustache-man was murdering his boyfriends – he was _well fit_! Maybe Yamato should buy a ticket to France, go visit his pépère, be sidetracked by a beautiful, homo-nudist lake, and senselessly fuck and get fucked by every man in the radius of the forest around it. Japanese men were so frigid and uptight, but these French bums were just shagging each other’s brains out on all sides all day.  

 

The door creaking open and shutting close had vaporised Yamato’s sex-tourism vacation plans.

 

The moment Taichi walked into the room, Yamato grabbed his skirt and worked on getting back into it while stammering, “Sorry ‘bout earlier, I… Never mind. I should go home. Gabumon’s waiting for me and my old man’d probably burned the kitchen by now, so-”

 

Taichi took two huge steps towards Yamato and pushed the skirt back to the floor before Yamato zipped it.

 

“Don’t apologise and don’t go.”

 

Yamato finally met Taichi’s eyes, but wasn’t sure what to do from there.

 

Taichi combed his fingers through his hair and fisted a bunch, pulling them back till they were plastered to his scalp. “’s al’right, yeah? We got hot and we reacted. We’re friends, it happens. It’s fine…” He liberated his hair and went for a smile. “I’ve been groped by worse trolls than you, all right?” His hand moved to Yamato’s. “Please stay…?”

 

Yamato’s eyebrow sky-rocketed into his disarrayed hairline. “Tou sure…? I just had my hand on your crotch. Don’t you think it’s a big deal?”

 

“It doesn’t have to be if we don’t make it into one.”

 

Yamato will never _not_ be a sucker for Taichi’s smile. Goofy, caring, funny – all of his smiles. Mostly, because it would never be too long before Yamato will be reciprocating them. “You’re a freak.”

 

Taichi took the semi-insult as consent and jumped back to the bed, pulling Yamato with him. “So what are we watching?”

 

Before Yamato managed to pounce on the remote and flip the channel, a hard moan came from the screen and Taichi had an eyeful of the protagonist and moustache-murder-man banging on the beach at sunset.

 

 Yamato’s face almost set itself on fire – because reasons.

 

“We don’t have to watch that…”

 

Taichi glanced at the screen again and back at Yamato. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s your turn to pick the entertainment.” He lay on his side behind Yamato and arranged their positions to fit on the single-sized bed. “Just scoot.”

  

With Taichi draping an arm over Yamato’s waist, they were comfortably spooning. Yamato couldn’t believe about himself how complacent he’d become. This was so embarrassing… but also _so_ warm and comforting. Maybe it was the drugs from last night making his mind lethargic. Maybe the experience was more emotional than that and he just didn’t want to think about it too much. Whatever – he already made a complete arse of himself in front of Taichi last night. Indulging Taichi by letting him cuddle Yamato won’t make Taichi think any less of him than he already had the chance to.

 

Taichi’s leg was bent and his knee pressed into Yamato’s balls in a way he kinda enjoyed. It was becoming difficult to think. It’s better not to.

 

On the screen, two French blokes were having sex in the bushes. It was raw and steamy, but Taichi wasn’t watching them. He was examining Yamato and the way Yamato’s skin got pinkish-er or the way his breath became heavier.

 

His sight roamed down the ridges of Yamato’s spine and once again landed on that God. Damn. _Heart_.

 

“Want me to help you wipe that shit off?”

 

Yamato half-turned his head to Taichi, a quizzical expression stapled on his face. “What shit?”

 

Taichi stared at him for a moment and picked up his phone from the dresser. He leaned back on his elbow and snapped a portrait of Yamato’s caboose. Then he shoved it in Yamato’s face.

 

“What the shit?!”

 

Taichi expected Yamato to spike into a rage spiral… but Yamato sorta didn’t. From the angle he was at, Taichi didn’t have a good view of Yamato’s face, but his head stayed motionless on the pillow, facing away, his hand thrown off to the side, and Yamato didn’t say anything else.

 

A hurried patter crescendoed outside Taichi’s door.

 

“Taichi, luv,” his mother knocked, “you all right?”

 

Taichi threw the blanket over Yamato, just in case she’d come in.

 

“Ya, mum. Yamato’s just a sour loser in Tekken!” He yelled at her through the door.

 

“Alright. Try to keep it down,” and she walked back to do laundry on the balcony.  

 

After making sure she was out of earshot, Taichi made his way over Yamato and to the floor. “I’m bringing wet wipes.”

 

He came back with a blue packet and threw it across the room at Yamato, who caught them instinctively with both hands without even needing Taichi’s head-up. He was about to pluck one square out, when Taichi climbed back behind him and Yamato reckoned – why not…?

 

“You do it.” He shoved the packet back to Taichi.

 

“Wipe your arse?”

 

“I’m tired...” Yamato pulled up his shoulders and sank between them. “Everyone else had already been there anyway, so what’s one more?”

 

Instead of arguing, Taichi lay behind Yamato and spooned him while lifting the blanket off of Yamato’s body.

 

He yanked one wet wipe and gently pressed it to Yamato’s doodled-on skin, all the while monitoring Yamato’s reactions. Deceivingly round and soft, Yamato’s bum was muscled and well-worked out. Touching it was an interesting experience and it was hard for Taichi to resist dropping the wipe and just touch it as is, skin to naked skin.

 

The fingers of his free hand twisted a few blonde strands as Taichi stroked Yamato’s soft hair. Barely touching at first, but when Yamato visibly leaned backwards for more, Taichi let himself become more assertive.

 

Only that that blasted heart didn’t bloody come off!

 

When he had a growing pile of humid rectangles with red stains on them, but still plenty enough work to do, Taichi threw away the fourth wipe and spat on Yamato’s arse.

 

“Taichi, what the f-“

 

“Just come here!” Taichi slipped an arm under Yamato’s waist, between Yamato and the mattress, and hoisted him up against Taichi’s chest. Then he rubbed Yamato’s bum cheek vindictively.

 

“Fuck! Taichi! Don’t tear my skin off!” Yamato blindly reached back and put his palm on the back of Taichi’s hand. The original purpose was to stop it before it turned the doodle into a permanent Picasso piece made out of Yamato’s skin tissues.

 

Didn’t mean he wanted Taichi to stop touching him, though.

 

“Not like this…” Yamato took Taichi’s hand and unclenched it so Taichi’s fingers opened and fanned out across Yamato’s cheek, moving slowly up and down his bum. Yamato pressed on it a bit, instructing Taichi’s motions. “Like this…”

 

Taichi’s heart sank beneath his waistline and continued straight down his trousers, pumping hot thrums up his spine and bollocks. He grabbed Yamato’s hips and gently kneaded his tush. Touching it for real, it _was_ soft. Thinking about Yamato as soft wasn’t natural at all, but at least that one thing about him really was.

 

Taichi was learning patiently what felt good for Yamato from watching him react. Sometimes it was even audible – if Yamato hummed for example.

 

It was like fine-tuning a piano with his eyes. They were everywhere: the elegant lines of Yamato’s flanks. Nape. His strong back. Nape. His slender fingers. Nape. Those endless legs. Nape. And, really, just that _damn_ nape. So Taichi put that nape in his mouth, teasing the skin gently with his tongue, paralyzing Yamato.

 

Beneath Taichi’s lips, Yamato’s breath hitched.

 

It only took one small moan from Yamato and Taichi almost lost it.

 

When Taichi detached himself from him, Yamato turned around to see what was going on, why did Taichi stop, and possibly go ape-shit.

 

What he found was Taichi taking off his T and – and _oh god_! The way he looked at Yamato.

 

Whoah! Yamato was getting high.

 

Taichi flung the shirt to his desk, where it fell off the edge, pushed himself behind Yamato again, and shoved Yamato back on his side so his arse ground against Taichi’s crotch.

 

Taichi’s nipples were tout and erect and when he pressed his newly-bare, hard torso against Yamato’s back, they grazed Yamato’s warm skin and poked him, asking him nicely to open his legs.

 

Large, manly hands skimmed over Yamato’s body, and they were very well-trained with loving his legs. They smacked his thighs, hard, and touched his calves, up and down and everywhere. When hard pressure pushed into the space between his legs and nudged his balls, just close enough to his arse for everything to feel too real, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and really moaned. Hard, desperate, let-me-be-your-bitch moan.

 

Taking this as permission, Taichi rubbed Yamato’s flat belly, feeling the way it dipped under Yamato’s hip bones. He pulled Yamato’s bra out of the way and cupped whatever warm thing he found there. The mounds weren’t as prominent as they were last night. It really was a man’s chest, but it still felt _so good_. Taichi couldn’t stop touching it now that Yamato was sober and clearly more than willing.  

 

“Your nipples have such a cute pink colour. Almost like a real girl’s. They’re turning red now…” he whispered near the beginning of Yamato’s jawline, behind his ear.

 

Taichi’s hands found Yamato’s arse again, and they were very-well versed in its preferred methods of pleasure. They kneaded it roughly this time, like play-dough or clay.

 

“This is nice, Yamato… does it feel nice?”

 

Yamato made a pleased voice at the back of his throat which rolled out of his lips in a soft mewl. “It’s nice…”

                                                                                                                                               

Yamato folded beneath him, trying to crush his legs into each other and reign in his aching dick.

 

Taichi had his moment of hesitation, but he wanted to make Yamato feel as good as Yamato was making Taichi feel. His hand slid down Yamato’s side and curved into the inner parts of his thighs.

 

“Taichi! No! No!”

 

The moment Yamato freaked out, Taichi moved his hand and gently massaged Yamato’s back.

 

“Why?”

 

“I am not a girl! I have a penis. I don’t need you going off the rocker in a minute ‘cause you’ve touched a wee-wee that’s not yours!” 

 

Taichi listened to the very end of what Yamato had to say. It’s not that he was exactly shocked to hear this. It’s just didn’t cross his mind.

 

He wrapped his arms around Yamato and hugged him. “Sometimes, you got the weirdest shit coming out of your mouth.”

 

He descended the column of Yamato’s neck with soft, small kisses all the way down to Yamato’s shoulder, where Taichi sucked gently on the sensitive curve. “Is this really all the trust I get from you?”

 

Yamato shifted in Taichi’s arms, shrinking a bit.

 

“I’ll stop if you won’t like it, all right?”

 

It’s not so much that Yamato wanted this. He just… didn’t want to resist, and slowly nodded.

 

Taichi’s right hand, the one Yamato lay on, reached up from Yamato’s side and grabbed both his wrists, gently moving them away. At the same time Taichi’s left hand stroked Yamato’s perfect tummy. Each stroke carried Taichi further down between Yamato’s thighs until it brushed the hard pole that threatened to tear through Yamato’s pink underwear.

 

Completely self-assured, Taichi rubbed Yamato’s master-erection through the wet lace of his knickers.

For a moment, Yamato gasped, but the gasp was traded for a hard groan. The lace was moving the foreskin beneath the mushroom tip of his cock in a way which was too good for words and Yamato’s brain left the planet.

 

Taichi pulled the pink, wet excuse for a fabric off Yamato and shoved it as far as he can into Yamato’s thigh. Now it wasn’t in Taichi’s way. His fist closed around Yamato’s hard-on and searched for the correct rhythm to pump it with so that Yamato would really enjoy himself.

 

 _God_ , were the noises coming out of Yamato hot!

 

And not only his noises. Yamato’s buttocks were pale with a pink sheen around them which remained there since Taichi rubbed Yamato’s bum cheek sore. It was very cute, like a little heart. It was also shiny with sweat. Yamato’s arsehole was a peachy, blushing pink – evidence that he really had everything shaved off. He looked like a combination between a twink and the protagonist of animated porn. Even his penis was smooth and masturbating Yamato was almost fun.

 

Taichi nudged Yamato’s leg, prompting it to rise a bit and let Taichi fit his knee. Yeah… that’s nice. Now he could rub Yamato’s balls. In this position, Taichi may as well put Yamato in his lap and use Yamato’s body for fun. Taichi’s member was rock-hard, yearning to be satisfied, and the way Yamato wriggled into it all the time didn’t help at all.

 

Oh, well. It’s not like Yamato wasn’t crazy inti it! Taichi thrust against Yamato’s delicious buttocks, humping frantically and matching the rhythm with the hand-job he was giving him.

 

The joggers Taichi had on were a living hell and the source of all evil in the world. Not only was all that excess fabric physically filtering the friction he _needed_ , but his dick was running away from where Taichi wanted it to be all the fucking time.

 

“Sorry! Give me a sec!”

 

And he tore the bloody joggers off his arse. They bunched around his knees and Taichi remained only in his briefs.

 

He grabbed Yamato’s bum and spread it. For a moment, he was completely enjoying how clean and soft it looked.

 

He pulled Yamato plush against his boxer-covered cock. The pale buns wrapped it tightly and fucking Yamato on dry was almost like the real thing. Dutifully, Taichi’s hand returned to pay attention to Yamato and nothing but Yamato. It milked the shaft and wiped the sopping tip of Yamato’s penis with its thumb, smearing the lacteal dribbles over the slit.

 

Yamato went insane. Taichi’s cock hit his hole every time Taichi thrust. Even without penetration, the humps were moving the floor of Yamato’s pelvis and putting a very specific type of pressure inside him which was _so good_!

 

It eventually really dawned on him, what Taichi was doing. Taichi was dry-humping him – with only barely a few millimetres of fabric to keep him from screwing Yamato for real. Hard, strong, heavy Taichi was humping “innocent,” young Yamato in Taichi’s bed in the afternoon.

 

Yamato had to push his head into the pillow so the goose feathers would muffle his moans, grunts, and those god-awful noises he made that were almost _purrs_. He had no control over his body.

 

Even if it wasn’t true at all, Yamato was completely getting off to the idea he was being used. When he closed his eyes, he was thinking about Taichi behind him .He was thinking about how he was just a piece of meat for Taichi, and the way Taichi roughly used him. How Taichi put that meaty arm around Yamato and wouldn't let go until he was done and didn't care what Yamato had to say about it.

 

Gooey, white warmth spilled on Taichi’s hand. Yamato spasmed – one, two, three, four fits, but when his balls couldn’t produce any more sperm, his body went lax and he lay, liquefied, in Taichi’s arms.

 

With his hand now liberated, Taichi grabbed Yamato’s hips and freely used him, watching his bulge disappear between Yamato’s bum cheeks and imagining how it would look like if he could do this naked. Yamato could keep the knickers on, though. Taichi loved how the lace teased him.

 

God, he _needed_ Yamato! He _needed_ Yamato’s luscious buttocks, which were so tight even on the outside. He _needed_ how pliant Yamato was, and completely willing to let Taichi cum on his butt after ramming into it.

 

It seemed to go on forever, but Yamato could tell when Taichi had finished.

 

Above their heads, the sun was warm. Yamato was like a cloud in Taichi arms. It was very charming to have this happen to his body. He let Taichi hold hands with him and Taichi didn’t release him. They lay in a mushy pile of appendages and didn’t talk. Only quietly lay together, watching their laced fingers, eyes drooping closed.

 

It was a pure type of sensuality. Not what you get after watching porn where your dick is bombarded and you just need to give it a wank to release. This was innocent and raw. Like when televisions first went from grey to technicolour.  When you feel sex in your body and you blend seamlessly with the sensations around you. It was a weird word to go for, but it was “authentic”. Just like how Taichi felt when he was eleven and only started unveiling his sexuality and every little thing was exciting to his sensitized self. He had his first erection when he was with Yamato, when they were fighting in the Digital World and he punched Yamato in the stomach. It was weird for him so he never talked about it. Someone once told him it’s possible to get an erection from just being excited about something, like car races or fires, so he left it at that. Now, it made even more sense.

 

It’s like there was nothing better for them to do, so they drowned in sex, drawing out each other’s pleasure. Enjoying feelings which were there, whether or not they defined them.

Kawasaki Frontale football’s club anthem rang in the room, emanating from Taichi’s cell phone and utterly interrupting them. Hand still in Yamato’s, Taichi grumbled and picked the call. “Hey, Hika… no, you didn’t wake me up…” Taichi gently laid a small peck on the side of Yamato’s face – so relaxed it was unreal. “When d’you need me to be there?” Yamato’s left eye squinted as it was being mushed by Taichi’s kiss on his cheek. ”yeah, I’ll pick you up…” Taichi’s kiss, as warm and fleeting as this sun outside his window, felt to Yamato like a promise of something.

 

After his arrangements with Hikari were clear, Taichi flipped his phone close and threaded fingers in Yamato’s hair. Gently, he pulled Yamato to him until their noses bumped.

 

“We’re going to the hospital tomorrow.”

 

Yamato pulled back his head, eyes darting over Taichi’s face and bouncing off his body, trying to find any visible injuries. “What the bloody fuck you need the hospital for?!”

 

Taichi sighed. “Not me… you.”

 

Yamato blinked at him. He didn’t say anything – just waited for Taichi to form a fuller sentence and start making sense.

 

Taichi pulled Yamato back to him. “Do you know how many partners you’d been with last night?”

 

Yamato opened his mouth, ready to verbalize retaliation, but he closed it instead and kept quiet.

“Neither do I. And we don’t know what they did to you or if they used condoms.” Taichi hugged Yamato – tight, rough. “Please let me take you to the hospital. It’s just a blood test and a few physicals. Just to see if… something happened.”

 

Wordlessly, Yamato released himself from Taichi and turned around, showing Taichi his back. Taichi was right but Yamato just didn’t want to tell him that. Didn’t want to deal with that. “Do whatever the fuck you want…”

 

Taichi smiled and nuzzled Yamato’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

While Yamato sort of napped, Taichi humped him again. Yamato gave him small ques he wanted to go again and let Taichi figure it out; tugged his wrist or rubbed his hips. Then he turned around and let Taichi go at it. It was more discreet this time. Later, Taichi did it again. Yamato sensed him working up to it, then sliding over next to Yamato. He humped him again, harder than before. Yamato let him and just pretended he was sound asleep. He didn't move a muscle, but he got rock hard.

 

Obviously, Taichi was fully aware there was no way Yamato was really sleeping, but Yamato barely managed to hide how much these sorts of sex power games turned him on. He loved this shit.

 

Yamato was happy to be used for Taichi’s satisfaction. And, maybe, someday, somehow, Taichi would use him again.


	5. Feeling If Only it’s Just Began

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter! thank you for everyone who was so patient with these updates! also, I don't ever want to hear the word "Polymarase" again ><  
> warnings for this chapter: sexy times!

Yamato stood near the sale shelf in the women’s lingerie store, which smelt heavily of potpourri, and compared all sorts of sartorial business. That’s what he was doing. 

 

He made a stop here on his way from the beautician because wearing these poly-blend knickers was chafing to death his freshly-waxed everything.

 

The way over was spent trying to walk as if there _wasn’t_ a stiff rod wedged up his arse. Now, he had a pair of knickers with some ruffle situation on the sides in one hand, a sheer thong with a pair of metal hearts designed to sit right over the pelvis in the other, and he had no idea how to operate either. Why did girls need all this crap?! Underwear had one purpose! One!

 

Defeated, Yamato snapped pictures of both and sent them to Mimi. He didn’t even get to put them back in place before his phone buzzed vindictively in his tote.

 

“Mimi?”

 

“ _Who_ are _you_ shopping for?!” Mimi squealed.

 

“For me?”

 

“Bitch, you are shopping for _someone_! Who’s the lucky bloke that’s getting into your panties?!”

 

Breaking from his initial confusion, yesterday flashed in the forefront of Yamato’s mind and a flush of warm butterflies swarmed his belly before they flew to his loins. Yamato peeked again at the underwear he was holding. Which one of these will Taichi like…?

 

Yamato ignored her. “I just want something that won’t cut off the circulation to my balls. What do you think will fit me? What will,” he sighed and lowered the tone of his voice to a hush, “make me look… sexy…?”

 

A boat horn couldn’t reach the pitch Mimi’s voice hit.

 

She made him send her pictures of almost everything in the store. Yamato ended up purchasing a thong, another pair with side-ties that was all bunched up and almost looked like a diaper, as well as those childish, white knickers with a bow in the front perverts bought from automatic machines which claimed they were used by 12 year old girls. Yamato even got one crotch-less pair and couldn’t look the clerk in the eyes when she passed it under the scanner.

 

“… And you better tell me after you get some, you get me?!” Mimi threatened and hung up on him.

 

What was worse than Mimi on a rampage was how Yamato started becoming more aware of his clothing. He was always conscious of looking good and dressing smart, but he never had that many options before, or the task of dressing out of his body type. It was disorienting. 

 

Unwilling to have another go at Mimi, he contracted Sora’s help this time. She also suspected he had a bum-chum on the side, but had the decency to be more diplomatic about it. Since Taichi always had a positive reaction to anything showing Yamato’s legs, Yamato picked up one more mini dress – with bell sleeves and a flared skirt – that was supposed to go well with black stockings.

 

Outside of the mall, Taichi leaned against a tree, legs stretched in front of him and crossing at the ankle, while chatting with a couple of his football mates. Ryo and Eiichi – the real one.

 

The moment Yamato was near, Taichi beamed, oozing happiness. He leaned into Yamato’s body and stroked his upper arms. Slowly, he backed Yamato to a tree and went for Yamato’s pale, slender neck to suck gently on the skin and kiss it. Taichi’s mates may as well been vaporised into thin air.

 

Yamato’s “sploosh” reaction was fierce and instantaneous.

 

Fingers moved insistently along his body. Taichi guided Yamato’s hands to Taichi’s hips while his own glided along Yamato’s thighs.

 

He listened to Yamato’s breath getting out of sync and slipped his hand to Yamato’s bum for a quick grope, not giving a shit in the slightest about the audience they had. 

 

Yamato instinctively put his mouth over Taichi’s and Taichi didn’t think anything.

 

Their open lips met a few times, smacking over each other.

 

Funny. By all accounts, this was their first kiss, but they may as well been doing this for years and every day. Neither one of them anticipated this, but it was fun the same way bumper cars in a carnival were, so they let it take them on some other, new ride to some other, new place.

 

Yamato didn’t kiss often. He didn’t fancy girls and cute men were hard to fetch. While his band-mates rolled in every teeny bopper’s bed they could find, Yamato largely lived a life of abstinence – much to his chagrin. He was a bit self-conscious now, about if he was making Taichi feel good, but when Taichi pulled away from him, he smiled with this shyness which was oh-so-rare on his stupid face.

 

“You are really nice to kiss…” Taichi said, his mouth floating over Yamato’s open lips, and leaned back to kiss him again. He could give Yamato deeper, sexier kisses now.

 

A soft, unpreventable moan exited Yamato’s barred lips and he clutched the back of Taichi’s shirt. It’s not like he could help it – his anatomy made plans without consulting his brain cells. It was going at it with determination reserved for Black-Friday shoppers, no less.

 

They didn’t reach the tongues stage or start Frenching before Ryo pushed Eiichi’s shoulder and spurred him to get a move on. “Let’s get that burger you owe me. I don’t want to be here when they start sucking faces. There is only so much of the captain’s arse I’m willing to see in one day.”

 

The comment lurched Yamato straight back into reality – which was about his only straight experience in an impressively long time. Turning an inexplicable shade of red, Yamato pushed Taichi away – nothing dramatic, just a light shove to signal Taichi he needed air – and it was just in time to see Ryo waving at them.

 

Taichi didn’t entirely let him go. He kept his arms around Yamato, hugging him, and rained small kisses on his face.

 

Never in his life did Yamato imagine Taichi was the mushy type – not that Yamato hated it. He just wasn’t used to being treated as if he was something precious. Not this way. Not in another man’s arms. Even if it was just for show, it was pleasant.

 

“We should go,” Taichi said, stroking the back of Yamato’s head.

 

Since Taichi begged Yamato to do a colonoscopy, just to make sure he had no internal tears or bruises, Yamato’s been a real bastard. Utterly passive-aggressive and barely cooperative. So until the appointment was over, every form of touch Taichi directed at Yamato was meant to pacify. It was like approaching a wounded wolf. Still, it wasn’t a bad experience. Yamato’s head was soft and it always smelt good.

 

Yamato also refused to allow Taichi take him to the hospital because he didn’t want any records of him being there. Instead, Taichi drove him to the other side of town to see a proctologist Yamato knew personally. When Taichi asked him where he dug that bloke from, Yamato told him they met at a Hatanabe and didn’t elaborate. Arse.

 

The man in the white coat who opened the door to the clinic was at least seventy wrinkly years old and severely balding. His aesthetically declining condition didn’t prevent Yamato from giving him two, small kisses on the cheeks, like the French do.

 

It was Taichi’s first visit in a proctologic clinic and he took in the surgical bed in the centre of the room, the screens and monitors surrounding it, a tray with metallic appliances lying neatly in a pouch on its surface, and the anatomical charts on the walls.

 

Yamato, on the other hand, acted familiar. He took off his clothes, down to his knickers, and lay prone on the bed with his legs open.

 

“You know, Mr. Ishida, I never imagined you to be the cross-dressing type,” the doctor, who’s qualification certificate read “Dr. Ishimaru”, said and smiled paternally at his patient.

 

Since the topic was not one Yamato fancied delving into too much, Taichi half-expected him to get embarrassed and try skirting pass the subject, but he didn’t. Yamato waved his hand, as if telling Dr. Ishimaru it’s no biggy, and answered, “a friend of mine and I had a very long debate about the position of women in the Japanese work force and I convinced her to take on a job she wants – if I can survive walking around like a woman till her application date is due.”

 

The Doctor laughed politely and stroked Yamato’s hair. “You are a good boy, Mr. Ishida.”

 

Something vile spiked in Taichi’s stomach. Who the fuck did this man think he is, touching Yamato like he knew him?!

 

He was about to tell him to get on with the examination, but Ishimaru and Yamato were still talking.

 

“What brings you to me today, lovely?”

 

Yamato smiled and stroked the old man’s forearm. “I partied a bit too hard a couple of days ago, so he-” Yamato pointed at Taichi with his chin, “made me come.”

 

Dr. Ishimaru turned to Taichi and smiled at him as well. “And it’s a very good thing you did. You are also a good boy. What’s the relationship between you two?”

 

Before Yamato said anything, Taichi blurted, “I’m his boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, I see. That’s good,” Dr. Ishimaru nodded, “he’s stubborn, but he needs love.”

 

Taichi smiled, but stopped when he caught Yamato glaring at him with a grouchy, borderline confused expression stapled on his mug.

 

While they were talking, Dr. Ishimaru smeared Vaseline on a narrow, black transmission camera which was barely thicker than a pen. When he approached Yamato with it, Yamato obediently raised his hips, without being asked, to ease in the insertion.

 

He seemed accustomed to this procedure and somehow it pissed Taichi off. “Shouldn’t he be sedated before you shove it in?”

 

If Dr. Ishimaru were in anyway surprised by Taichi’s colossally rude hatch-for-a-mouth, he didn’t let it show, and replied, “There will be no need. We will not go that deep,” while he pushed the transmitter into Yamato’s rectum. 

 

Yamato hummed.

 

“It’s cold.”

 

Dr. Ishimaru petted him on the shoulder and turned on the monitor. The screen lit up and displayed a tunnel of pink flesh and mucous membrane. 

 

“The premium is smooth. The membrane has a good consistency… You will start feeling some pressure in your stomach, but I will go in gently, all right?” He said more than asked and pushed the camera further in. Then he smiled at the screen, “you are like silk.”

 

Taichi switched his attention between the proctologist, Yamato, and the monitor, getting more and more ticked off by how familiar this man allowed himself to act around Yamato. By anything which flew out of his mouth, really.

 

Yamato shifted a bit around the literal stick up his bum, but Dr. Ishimaru put a calming hand on his stomach to stop him. “Just a bit more.”

 

To Yamato’s arsehole immense relief, it really was just a bit more and when the transmitter was pulled out of him, the good doctor said, “you have the cleanest rectum I had ever seen.”

 

After handing Yamato a tissue to wipe off excess Vaseline, he took out a fresh needle and pricked Yamato’s vein with it. “I will do the blood test and then you and your boyfriend can go home.” He screwed a test tube into the needle cap and let the blood fill it till it was three quarters full. Then he plugged the entire construct out and taped a bandage on the puncture hole. “The blood test result will be done in three weeks, Mr. Ishida, but so far, there doesn’t seem to be any problem. You may put your clothes back on.”

 

Dr. Ishimaru left the room to put the sample in the refrigerator and the moment he did, Taichi hugged Yamato.

 

Yamato went rigid for a moment – with his current state of undress and his legs dangling on either side of Taichi’s body and all – but then weakly put an arm around Taichi’s waist. “What’s with you today?”

 

“I’m just happy you’re all right.”

 

“Taichi, why-”

 

The door cracked open before Yamato finished the line.  Dr. Ishimaru re-entered the room and smiled at the position he found Taichi and Yamato in. “You boys are very cute.”

 

Yamato waved an inclusive gesture with his hand to the doctor from over Taichi’s shoulder. “You can join if you want to.”

 

Taichi went ‘huh?’ with his shoulders, but Dr. Ishimaru only laughed at the offer. “You young have fun. I am too old to be chasing boys with bandanas in their back pockets.”

 

“How much do we owe you?” Taichi asked while Yamato let him help him to his feet.

 

Again came that fatherly expression on the old man’s face and it was suffused in something akin to pity. “You most likely don’t earn enough to pay for a private doctor in today’s market,” he continued talking past the rapidly manifesting alarm on Taichi’s face, “so you don’t have to pay anything. Isn’t this why you came to me?” His eyes flicked to the dressing Yamato, briefly raking his barely-out-of-adolescent body. “I am retired. I help young gay boys like you because I was one and I know what you are going through when you try to keep yourself a secret from your family.” Then he smiled again. “And I like it when you visit me. It’s good to feel relevant even when I know I am not.”

 

Finally fully clothed, Yamato stepped in next to Taichi and put a small kiss on Dr. Ishimaru’s old lips. “You are always relevant.”

 

He grabbed Taichi’s arm and dragged him out.

 

The short walk to the car passed in undisturbed quiet. Yamato let go of Taichi, who in turn shoved his hands into his pockets and walked behind Yamato’s straight back. Taichi tried to reign in the edge of his mouth, which tried drooping sideways. Then, Taichi’s lip went back down all on its own. Normally, Taichi’d be sweetly giving Yamato’s arse the once-over, but he wasn’t in the mood for sexy thoughts.

 

“What exactly do you do in a Hatenba?” He blurted before his mouth had reconnected with his brain.

 

Yamato turned his head – not all the way, only till his chin was aligned with his shoulder – and glanced at Taichi while they both kept on walking. “Screw or get screwed. Anything from ‘whoowee!’ to ‘Holy. Shit.’, honestly.”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t get you.” 

 

Yamato shrugged. “It’s alright. Serves its purpose, I guess. Don’t want to do it all my life.”

 

Through most of the drive to Yamato’s flat, Yamato stayed quiet. His energies depleted and he didn’t really talk other than throwing obligatory “yes”s, “perhaps”s or “if you say so”s every time Taichi finished a sentence. His face was stuck in the window, looking only outside and no place else.

 

Taichi subdued the urge to ask what was wrong. When Yamato got like this, it was better to wait till he came to Taichi by himself. Otherwise, Yamato’d feel like he’s being pushed and it’s a bloodbath all the way from there.

 

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

 

Taichi glanced at Yamato from the edge of his eyes before refocusing on the road again.

 

“I know.”

 

His stomach sunk. It was true and Taichi was aware of that. It’s just that when Yamato shoved this fact in Taichi’s face, it became undeniably real. Taichi wasn’t supposed to feel like this at all, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“So stop saying you are. You’re teammates aren’t here.”

 

“Why do you care so much?”

 

Yamato’s head snapped at Taichi for the first time since they entered the car. “Because I actually want a _real_ boyfriend and I can’t get one if rumours start that I’m taken.”

 

Boom. It dropped on Taichi like a toilet seat from the twentieth floor.  He didn’t _want_ Yamato to have a boyfriend.

 

“I’ll be your ‘real’ boyfriend.”

 

Did that just came out of his mouth…?

 

For a few seconds, Yamato only stared at him, not even with anger – just with a blank, hollow expression, unable to compute what Taichi had just dunked on him.

 

“Do you even fucking listen to yourself sometimes?!”

 

“What’s your problem?!”

 

“Your fucking dick, that’s my problem! Does it have _any_ connection with your brain? Did you even think this through? Did you think what you’re asking from me?!”

 

“Not to marry you, which is what you seem to think I’m asking.” Taichi sighed. “Look, you and I – we’re best friends. We love each other. I’ll drive the entire bloody city just so you could see that one proctologist you want and I’m not asking you questions about it, do I? I love you, and you just went on a football club trip dressed as woman just to make me happy, so you love me too. Clearly, our bodies are also compatible and yes...” he trailed off for a moment, “I do think you’re sexy. And, you know, you’ve been complaining nonstop about not getting laid – so here’s a free pass. I’d fuck you as much as you want! I really don’t get why you’re so hung up about it…” Taichi had no idea who broke the breaks for his motor-mouth or what the hell he was hurling himself into. The only fact blaring in his head like a thousand suns was how he didn’t want Yamato to have another boyfriend, and for that end – anything goes right now.

 

“Taichi, you’re straight!”

 

“Not straight enough, apparently!”

 

“Taichi…” Something was flawed in Taichi’s logic – Yamato was sure about it. Something there bothered him, but Yamato couldn’t find the right argument. Not with the pile of fresh lingerie he’d just bought specifically with Taichi in mind. “God, you’re not thinking this through…”

 

How? How come no matter what Taichi thought, Yamato was always wrapped around his pinky and did whatever Taichi wanted.

 

“If I say yes, this is only going to be sanctioned fooling around. Until you get a girlfriend or I get a boyfriend. I don’t want to get hurt.”

 

Taichi loosened a hand off the wheel and stroked Yamato’s thigh. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

 

“I know. So when you won’t be fucking me hard and dirty through the mattress, let’s go slow and easy. I don’t want any emotional stuff to deal with.”

 

When the light turned red at the intersection, Taichi kissed Yamato’s cheek. “Slow and easy works for me.” Even if he had no idea what to do with this situation from now on or how to be with another man. “Yes?”

 

While Yamato’s stomach sank, horny, little butterflies replaced the void it left behind. “Yes…”

 

Shit, did Taichi look bloody chuffed. Through the rest of the ride, just seeing that smug face made Yamato want to punch it.

 

***

 

Gabumon was the one who opened the door for them. Typical.

 

Sunshine dyed Yamato’s room with noontide white and gold, but the rest of the house was overcast with closed window shutters as though no one lived here.

 

“Did dad say when he’ll be back?” Yamato asked his Digimon partner while opening the windows around the living room to air out the house some.

 

“Hiroaki said he’ll be here in time for dinner tonight.” Gabumon jumped on the sofa and basked in the light Yamato let it.

 

“All right,” Yamato side-eyed the clock on the wall, “that’ll be about three hours. I’ll make dinner and we could all eat together when my old man comes home. Is that fine with you two?” He shifted his gaze from Gabumon to Taichi and listened to their unanimous “yes”s.

 

“What do you guys want for dinner?”

 

Before Taichi got to yell “Takoyaki!”, Gabumon politely asked for Swedish meatballs with raspberry jam on the side.

 

While Yamato marched to the fridge to take out the ground beef and defrost it, Taichi slid next to Gabumon on the cushions and turned on the telly, zipping the channels for something brain-rotting to the max. Warm fuzz brushed his side as Gabumon leaned into him and smiled with his toothy, animalistic way. Taichi rubbed his head around the yellow horn and raised his arm for Gabumon to recline under.  

 

Noises of sizzling oil replaced those of a blender mixing. The smell of spices and meat wafting through the small flat made Taichi salivate and want to die.

 

A couple of minutes after the sound of a water stream hitting metal stopped, Yamato appeared, carrying a small plate with two meatballs on it and a jar full of red marmalade. “Sorry, we don’t have any raspberry – only strawberry.”

 

But Gabumon was slumbering peacefully on Taichi’s lap. Yamato patted him gently, without waking him up, and put the plate on the coffee table. He searched for his own place to sit and, noticing his plight, Taichi lifted his second arm – the one which wasn’t cradling Gabumon.

 

A brief moment of deliberation passed through Yamato’s head where he ping-ponged the idea of accepting the wordless invitation to practically sit in Taichi’s lap next to his Digimon. Doing it meant he was really admitting Taichi’s his boyfriend, but then again – what did he have to lose by getting comfy with his _boyfriend_?

 

Just having that word in his head and applying it to himself made Yamato’s smile widen past his canines while he deposited his posterior barely a centimetre off Taichi’s thighs and folded his legs beneath himself.

 

“What are you smiling at?”

 

“Piss off and eat.”

 

Yamato’s arse barely touched the tweed lining his sofa before Taichi threw his arm around Yamato’s shoulder and pulled Yamato to lean against his chest. Yamato obliged; Taichi had a very sexy, hard chest.

 

They were almost, _almost_ cuddling. Surprisingly – or not so surprisingly – this wasn’t as bizarre as Yamato expected this to be. Almost cuddling like this with Taichi was very cosy. Maybe because there wasn’t much of a difference between what they were doing now and their usual antics – minus the whole “boyfriend” title.

 

“What are we watching?” Yamato yawned down Taichi’s ear.

 

Taichi shrugged. “Honestly, the telly’s all bollocks.” He flipped to a random channel broadcasting a Korean soap opera and then accidently dropped the remote. Out of sheer laziness and an unwillingness to disturb Gabumon, they ended up watching that. Only instead of following the plot, they made jokes about the shitty acting skills of the leading cast and the exaggerated events.

 

Sometimes, Taichi kissed Yamato’s shoulders. Other times, his neck with no particular pattern. Taichi’s hand dropped from Yamato’s shoulder to his waist and Taichi caressed Yamato’s thighs and hips. It was so easy to hold Yamato like this; to put arms around him and to kiss him.

 

Yamato pretended he didn’t notice any of the attention Taichi was lavishing him with. He wanted to see how far Taichi will take this. Yamato’s neck and ear were wet with the saliva Taichi left on him when that horny bastard slobbered on them. It was cooling on Yamato’s skin and making him vulnerable and ticklish.

 

At the gentle indention between Yamato’s throat and shoulder, Taichi hit some sort of sweet spot with his teeth which forced a soft mewl out of Yamato before he could stop himself.

 

It was a lovely, pure reaction. Taichi turned Yamato’s head towards him and kissed Yamato, nouth to mouth. He kissed him again, and then one more time.

 

Yamato responded much faster than he wanted to.

 

And Taichi didn’t stop. He carefully moved Gabumon’s head from his lap to the cushions, and squashed the fine hairs lining the base of Yamato’s skull with his fingers. Between kisses, he was lowering Yamato gently to the sofa.

 

They kissed for a while until it was becoming more than that and Yamato was lying on his back with Taichi on top of him, tracing a finger along his hip.

 

Yamato sucked on Taichi’s lips. They had a decent balance between chafed and soft and were pleasant to kiss. 

 

He enjoyed himself immensely.

 

He opened his mouth a bit wider, wanting Taichi to come in. 

 

Tongues twining, wet and sloppy, they snogged like two teenagers. Taichi pulled them closer and Yamato whined gently as he arched into Taichi’s torso.

 

Yamato’s hands ran along Taichi’s thighs and he gave them a squeeze which rivalled the ones Taichi usually gave _him_. His thumb dug into the jeans-covered flesh of Taichi’s inner thigh, craving to explore more of the tender area. Yamato didn’t want to repeat the same mess they had yesterday, when he confused the cues and groped Taichi into a freak-out. But Yamato wanted to touch Taichi’s dick _so_ badly! So his thumb ended up acting passive-aggressive on Yamato’s behalf.

 

Taichi grabbed Yamato’s hand and put the palm directly on his bulging crotch, right on the zip, giving Yamato everything he wanted with a knowing smile between smooches and half a groan. But before the sound fully escaped him, Yamato clamped a hand on Taichi’s mouth, willing him to shut it.

 

He pointed behind him, at Gabumon’s peaceful figure.

 

“Don’t wake him up…” Yamato managed under his ragged breath – which made his voice _so_ sexy.  The way he said it was exquisitely verging on a purr and sent a hot pulse between Taichi’s legs. 

 

_Thank god_ , the constraints of his jeans dissolved under Yamato’s dexterous fingers. Practically exalted, Yamato slipped his fingers under the waistband of Taichi’s boxers and gave the first squeeze to a hard, hot piece of meat.

 

Taichi bucked down and ground into Yamato’s large palm, up and down, dying for the friction.

 

Still too much fabric around him! With one hand, Taichi tried yanking his jeans off. He slid them under his bum, just enough for the cheeks to peek over, and for his penis to not be chafing against the rigid cotton into gangrene.

 

His second hand travelled up Yamato’s facial cheek and stroked the dainty hairs near his ear which one day could become sideburns. Taichi’s lips left Yamato’s and frantically peppered the route from Yamato’s jawline to his – and Taichi’s – favourite spot beneath Yamato’s neck.

 

Under his lips, Taichi had Yamato’s beating heart – and it was set on a brutal rhythm, screaming “screw me!”

 

Taichi’s ears registered ragged breaths that didn’t fully subdue small, needy whines – no matter how hard Yamato tried. He was _unbelievably_ hot!

 

Taichi hoped Yamato was wearing one of those cute, transparent thongs. They looked so good when you pushed them out of the way and revealed the pink, tiny pucker, all gaping and squeezing and needing and dreading attention. They looked even better when the bum-string went over the cock and decorated it while the tip slipped in.

 

“I’m turning you over, all right?”

 

His hands were already on Yamato’s hips, not expecting a refusal.

 

Some suspicion nagged on Yamato’s face and he didn’t bother hiding it but, slowly, he nodded. Taichi flipped Yamato on his belly and watched him lay submissively beneath him. Taichi smirked. This won’t happen often.

 

Right now, though, Yamato’s fists clenched the fabric of the sofa near his head in a child-like pose and he looked away

 

It was a beautiful sight. Taichi ran his hand up and down Yamato’s right leg and enjoyed himself plenty with only observing him – because Yamato’s reactions were A-fucking plus! So hot!

 

He clutched Yamato’s hips – not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to feel the satisfying resistance of Yamato’s flesh under his fingertips.

 

Taichi yanked his lower body half off the sofa till Yamato was on his knees, bent over the cushions, and his butt was hanging in the air. The hem of Yamato’s mini skirt climbed up his bum, allowing Taichi a small peek into the white knickers beneath it.

 

Said skirt was instantly flipped over Yamato’s muscular arse. The fabric hung limply around his waist and fully exposed the soft and chubby melons Yamato had beneath it. They had great elasticity and were fluffy.

 

“You have a lovely arse.” Both of Taichi’s hands were on it before the words flew out of his mouth, kneading and squeezing uncontrollably. Taichi watched the way the lace knickers hugged Yamato’s pale mounds and pushed them up. Perfectly accentuating.

 

He pulled some of the fabric away, revealing Yamato’s freshly waxed, pink butthole. Without warning, he crooked his middle finger and pushed it into the tiny pucker.

 

“Ouch!” Alarmed, Yamato glimpsed aside to make sure Gabumon was still asleep and grabbed Taichi’s arm, trying to pull the pain out of him.

 

“Taichi!” he mouthed, delivering his anger better with his over-the-top facial expressions and accentuated mouth motions than his actual voice. “Take it out and use bloody _lube_! For fuck’s sake, we’d just been to the doctor – I’m not going back with a torn anus.”

 

“Sorry…” The finger was out in an instant and Taichi lifted Yamato’s top till it bunched around his armpits. Now Taichi could rub small, apologetic circles into Yamato’s smooth back. The muscles were tense under Taichi’s fingertips and he massaged them till they softened into easy and malleable lines again.

 

While Taichi softly stroked Yamato’s flanks, a brilliant idea popped into his mind. “Be back in a sec.” Taichi leaned over to kiss Yamato’s spine and disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Yamato maintained the position Taichi left him in – on his knees. One half of his brain was completely dysfunctional due to sex hormones wreaking havoc in it while the other still tried figuring out how on Earth he wound up in this situation. Not bent over his own furniture – though, admittedly, that’s something he’d never got the chance to do before either – but _being_ bent over by _Taichi_ and _consenting_ to it.

 

Was he really that desperate? Was he the kind of lap dog who’d say “yes” to anyone who asked as long as he liked the outline of their junk and the head fitted? Even if he only got screwed because he dressed like a girl and was easy to give anal to?

 

But this wasn’t “yes” to anyone. This was “yes” to Taichi. Taichi.

 

Maybe what actually bothered him was how he had the bollocks to show himself to Taichi like this – like a horny bitch. Taichi was someone Yamato always wanted to be with. Yamato wanted to be reliable and be there when Taichi needed him to.

 

Maybe, though, _because_ it was Taichi Yamato was saying “yes” to, this trust, this… this sense that everything will be all right came organically to him. While they sexed each other out and Yamato wasn’t overthinking the god damn universe, being with Taichi like this came to him much more naturally than laying his best friend should. Taichi wasn’t a selfish lover, either.  He pleased Yamato and wanted him to be satisfied.

 

Taichi returned from the kitchen, wearing a filthy grin instead of his shirt and holding something behind his back.

 

“No,” Yamato said.

 

 

“Close your eyes, you prick. You’ll love it – I swear.” Taichi kneeled behind Yamato and stroked his white, perky buns with his unoccupied hand.

 

Since he really was a horny bitch, Yamato obeyed and stretched forward, rocking his bum up and down in Taichi’s face. It’s not that he wasn’t tense – it’s just that he didn’t want to let it show.

 

He felt Taichi slowly peeling off his knickers and Yamato’s heart was beating the shit out of his chest. Something freezing slid down between the cheeks of his arse and circled his butthole, probing him a bit and tickling his sensitive nerves.

 

Before he yelped, a large hand covered his mouth.

 

Taichi waited to make sure Yamato relaxed before releasing him. The moment he did, Yamato turned to look at Taichi with two large, confused eyes that were just beautiful and a bit moist at the edges.

 

“It’s just ice.” Taichi stroked Yamato’s thrilling thigh, reassuring, and presented the cube.

 

Yamato observed the ice as if it might bite his nose off. It already smelt like ass. Then he nodded before closing his eyes again and laid his head on the soft cushions. With his own hand, Yamato spread himself, telling Taichi to pleasure him.

 

Taichi took a long, steadying breath and ran the dripping cube up and down the tender flesh of Yamato’s buttocks.

 

Watching the ice cube melting against the heat of Yamato’s puny pucker sent something fierce of an ach into Taichi’s hard-on. The water made the small hole, along with the skin around it, glisten and shine. His mouth went dry. He lowered his trunks all the way down to his thighs and let his penis hang.

 

He inserted the remains of the cube into Yamato’s anus and watched the tight ring of muscles spasm erratically around it, trying to swallow in the intruder. It looked as if it was slurping it and Yamato was wriggling and twisting around it to adjust to the discomfort. The motions only made his pretty bum jiggle more.

 

Taichi gripped Yamato’s hips and held them in place. _God,_ Yamato. Taichi couldn’t believe… But… what if he’d hurt him? He promised he won’t hurt Yamato and he promised their relationship wouldn’t change, but he already almost hurt him just because he had no bloody idea what he was doing. Maybe this was too fast? He had no idea how to be with another man or how to have sex with one. Yamato told him to basically stick his cock in whatever hole, but that only made him more nervous and it was starting to become a major boner killer. At the same time, he was getting blue-balls. 

 

When Yamato turned his head, silently asking Taichi why he stopped, Taichi’s half-lidded, hot eyes greeted him. Taichi mauled his lower lip under his teeth and said, “Stick your bum up and close your legs.”

 

His tone was husky and deep, verging on a growl, and Yamato obeyed instantly, almost wetting himself. The situation was getting sexier than he thought he’d get to experience and his pre-cum leaked over his thighs. He couldn’t believe this was Taichi talking or that this was the voice coming out of Taichi’s vocal cords. Sweet, slightly goofy, and usually sort of innocent Taichi – now almost sounding like a daddy in a porn film.

 

Taichi pushed his hand between Yamato’s legs, fondling his balls, before Yamato felt something hard, hot and stiff pushing between his thighs. He shoved himself back, rocking against Taichi’s crotch, and looked down between his legs. The tip of Taichi’s brown cock appeared just beneath Yamato’s own, blushing one, and they were grinding them together.

 

_Shit_ , that was hot! And the pressure was just right – just how Yamato touched himself.

 

Both of Taichi’s hands moved to Yamato’s chest and slipped on his tender mounds. Taichi cupped Yamato’s breasts gently. God, he loved them. He waited so long to touch them when they are swollen and full. Taichi trapped one of the small coral buds between his fingers and tugged it carefully. The nipple was so sensitive and perky.

 

Yamato bit his hand to swallow the whimper he couldn’t keep down and came all over himself. Hot liquid trickled down to his knees and he barely kept himself steady.

 

Before he fell on his stupid, horny face, Taichi grabbed him and spun him around with those worked-out muscles of his – which Yamato would gladly allow to do whatever they wanted to his body. At least until he climbed back down from the orgasm. It wasn’t his best orgasm – he usually needed his sticky insides probed hard to really get his head blown off – but his sperm was still out and all over the place.

 

Taichi instantly hooked Yamato’s ankles around his waist and smiled like the sun. “You’re gorgeous…” he stroked Yamato’s cheeks and kissed one of them. This was certainly a unique perspective for him – both with Yamato and with another man. “Can I continue…?”

 

Yamato peeked down. Taichi’s member was still very hungry and extremely hard and his balls were bloated and heavy. Yamato would bet they’d sound amazing slapping his arse. He smiled back and spread his legs further. 

 

Taichi weaved his arms under Yamato’s armpits and used his shoulders for leverage, meshing their bodies together as though he tried gluing himself to Yamato’s belly. All the while, he kissed Yamato furiously and half those times were so sloppy, he hit Yamato’s eyes and nose instead of his lips.

 

Hushed moans faded off their mouths.

 

Taichi found a comfortable spot between Yamato’s skinny hip-bone and his cock. He made Yamato close his legs a bit. That created a nice, tight space between the two which squeezed Taichi’s own dick –just enough to pop _so_ hard on Yamato’s warm tummy after less than a minute of grinding.

 

Very thick, clear fluid spilled from his swollen head and unto Yamato’s glassy skin.  

 

Taichi lowered his head and focused on that spot – where his dark mushroom head rubbed his milk into Yamato’s pale body. It was something else. And seeing Yamato spread out beneath him, cock still a bit hard, body drenched in both their sperm pools, was the most erotic thing. Almost enough to make Taichi hard again. He never experienced anything like this before. It made every previous sexual experience he had – limited though those were – mechanical and boring in comparison. 

 

“Stop staring at my dick!” Yamato barked, despite the bloody obvious happiness pasted all over his dumb face.

 

A rattle of keys in the lock jingled from the apartment door before Taichi had a comeback.

 

They were on different sides of the flat in instants. Taichi tried pushing his oversized hair into his undersized shirt while Yamato catapulted to his room, yelling at Taichi to let his dad in.

 

When Hiroaki found Taichi, rather than his son, standing in the hallway and looking at papa Ishida as if the boy had been mystically teleported there, some weird exchange of glances occurred. It wasn’t the first time Taichi was in their home when Yamato wasn’t, but usually he didn’t look like he was planted there by aliens.

 

“All right, Taichi?” asked the older man while slipping into his slippers.

 

Taichi nodded a bit too harshly, and it produced a crack from his neck. “Brilliant. Helping Yamato with dinner. You?”

 

Hiroaki nodded – not as stupidly – and looked around the salon. “Where _is_ Yamato?”

 

“He’s changing. I’ll call him.” Taichi didn’t even finish the sentence before marching down the corridor to Yamato’s bedroom.

 

He closed the door behind him and watched Yamato change out of his shirt – which now had small sperm stains on since he didn’t have time to wipe his belly off.

 

Taichi skipped in and snuggled up to Yamato, hugging him, arms around the waist and everything. “My cum smells fun on you,” he said and kissed Yamato’s neck.

 

“Our cum,” Yamato corrected, emphasising the “our” part.

 

“Even better.”

 

Yamato indulged Taichi’s clinginess while changing out of his skirt, but pushed him off when it time came to push himself into a sunshine yellow, Sanrio shirt Mimi bought him. It was just long enough to hide any trace of his girly knickers.

 

With the shirt matching his hair, Yamato transformed into a baby chick and Taichi had to stop his hand from trying to pet Yamato’s head. He looked _adorable_ , though. 

 

“Taichi?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I can hear you.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.”

 

“But you are thinking it.”

 

Taichi laughed and it was a loud one. “Doesn’t your dad wonder why you’re suddenly into Pompompurin?”

 

Yamato shrugged. “He thinks it’s a gay thing. I don’t bother educating him.”

 

They returned to the kitchen, where Gabumon was already helping to arrange cutlery and plates. Taichi took it upon himself to pour orange juice for everyone while Yamato served each individual’s plate.

 

Taichi noticed Hiroaki was distinctively trying to avoid bringing up the topic of Yamato’s wardrobe. As a result, Taichi was trying very hard to avoid laughing his face off. Other than that, not much activity went on beyond casual, family banter. When they were done, Yamato washed the dishes and let his father seize control of the living room to vegetate in front of the telly.

 

Once done, two young men plus one Digimon migrated back to Yamato’s room, where they unanimously collapsed on the bed under the weights of their full stomachs.

 

After a few minutes of silently imitating a sack of potatoes along with Yamato and Gabumon, Taichi grabbed Yamato and pulled him till half of Yamato’s body was lying on his chest. Some stiffness was involved, but eventually Yamato let Taichi have his way, squeezing his hand into Taichi’s pecks.

 

They weren’t used to this level of cuddliness in their relationship and sometimes Yamato felt as if they were both acting – trying to fit the trope of couple-like behaviour. At the same time, the physical contact was fantastic. Both he and Taichi would instantaneously become less tense. Yes, even when nothing about the touch was inherently sexual.   

 

Once the position was right, Taichi propped his head with one arm tucked underneath it, and stroked Yamato’s back with no particular pattern while Yamato idly caressed his torso.

 

“Was it good?” Taichi asked quietly.

 

Yamato hummed a low, positive feedback and lifted his head, smiling at Taichi lazily. “Thank you for letting me be the first to have you like that.”

 

Taichi copied Yamato’s expression, leaned over and kissed his lips.

 

Yamato glimpsed over to Gabumon, who picked up a book.

 

“Why didn’t you-” Yamato looked over at Gabumon again, to _really_ make sure, and kept his voice down, “Why didn’t you fuck me?”

 

Taichi kissed him again.  He pointed at Gabumon with his thumb – discreetly though. “…Was there. My dick wasn’t comfortable with that. And after the whole finger thing… I kinda-” He showed Yamato a crooked smile, “freaked out a bit.”

 

Slowly, Yamato nodded and put his head back on Taichi’s shoulder.

 

“Why did you want to be my boyfriend?”

 

Taichi weaved his fingers in blonde softness and pet Yamato’s scalp. “I don’t know. I just did. It seemed to make sense. Why does it matter?”

 

Yamato looked back up at him. “It matters”

 

Disentangling, Taichi slid down Yamato’s body, where he hugged Yamato’s legs as though they were a body pillow, and kissed his thighs over and over again, marking his territory with saliva. At this point, it was safe to suspect he was trying to bond with them on a molecular level.

 

“It doesn’t matter. Now shut up and let me love your legs.”

 


	6. I Just Wanted You to Know That, Baby, You’re the Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly porn XD  
> warnings for this chaptr: homophobia

 

Ryo was the last one to drop his jock strap in the plastic bag and waved with all the irony entailed. “Have a great weekend, captain!”

 

After he exited, Taichi was left by himself in the football club’s changing rooms, well on his way to polish eleven, freshly sweated-into jock straps into an unblemished state.

 

He didn’t bother putting his clothes back on after the shower. Didn’t want to infect them with the aromas he was about to face. The last thing he needed was for his mum to ask why he smelt like a scrotum dabbed in hand sanitizer.

 

In the spirit of a traditional, Japanese summer, it was also humid like a bloody sauna today.

 

Taichi was about to take out the coerce sponge when a gentle rapping bumped against the Formica of the men changing room’s door.

 

Without waiting for approval, Yamato walked in.

 

Immediately, Taichi’s eyes scaled the length of his pale legs till they disappeared beneath a pink, satin mini-skirt. A skirt that barely covered his bum. From there, his pupils jumped to scan the cropped hoodie Yamato had as a top. It shamelessly revealed Yamato’s toned midriff, leaving just the right amount of skin visible.   

 

Half of Taichi’s brain told him Yama was a fine, little piece of ass and that Taichi wouldn’t mind hitting that. He’d wax that arse. The other half was speed-dialling a Shinto priest to come and exorcise his dirty thoughts.

 

“What are you doing here?” Taichi blurted.

 

Yamato raised his eyebrow and pulled out a bottle of vinegar and baking soda. “I came to help you, but if you want to clean bollocks’ sweat on your own, be my guest.”

 

He turned to leave, but Taichi grabbed his wrist.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just not your responsibility.”

 

Yamato found an amorphous fungi colony on the wall and became increasingly fascinated by it. He scratched the back of his neck and fiddled with the fingers he used to tug the strings of his bass. “Well… I mean… it was my fault we lost the haunted hospital race… and I should take responsibility.” 

 

Taichi smiled and tugged Yamato’s wrist again, this time gently, with silent gratitude. “I’m not complaining about the company.”

 

Heat creeped along Yamato’s neck and to his cheeks, and he shifted his gaze from that fascinating fungi to the dried coffee stain on the floor. It was right by Taichi’s foot and Yamato naturally followed it up to Taichi’s tan ankles, his muscled shins, his humid thighs, those tight, soaked, white briefs that revealed Taichi had only now showered–

 

Oh, shit.

 

Yamato was one hundred percent sure Taichi was hell-bent on making Yamato’s life as difficult as possible only because it amused him so much.

 

 

Taichi picked up the ingredients Yamato brought and gave them a whiff before recoiling from the potent odor. He was about make a pee-pee joke but when he lifted his head, it dawned on him he was giving Yamato’s eager gaze one hell of peep show.

 

He took a deep breath, smiled awkwardly and did his utmost best to think about boogers, skin diseases, that specific green-brown-yellow shade bile has, the weird, black mole near Roman’s arse crack, the clogged toilet on the third floor, and any other nasty piece of memory that will keep his briefs flat.

 

Yamato also produced two pairs of latex gloves and earned himself a funny look from Taichi, to which he shrugged. “What? Am I supposed to bathe in men smell?”

 

A shit eating grin replaced Taichi’s face. “I thought you loved the smell of bollocks.”

 

Yamato one-upped him with a filthy-ass smirk. “Only when it’s fresh.”

 

“Sexy.”

 

Yamato sat on the bench and picked up one of the elastic bands to start washing the plastic cup attached to it. Meanwhile, he tried to avoid fantasizing about Taichi, or any other of Taichi’s teammates, wearing one. And nothing but one. 

 

While picking up his own jockstrap, Taichi observed thin fingers as they skedaddled dexterously on the device.

 

Yamato was definitely used to fumbling with balls. The golden crown of his head slightly bobbed from side to side to the beat of a tune he was humming to himself. Taichi had righteous good time simply watching him.

 

Without asking for permission from his brain, Taichi’s hand reached forward and petted the top of Yamato’s head, twiddling with his hair.

Yamato automatically snapped up, like a dog who was about to bite an uninvited guest. He stared at Taichi for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he was doing but, through a gradual procedure, his facial expression relaxed and he let Taichi stroke him. He even leaned into the touch a bit.

 

At the same time, he found Taichi’s crotch right in his face. He didn’t think Taichi did it consciously, but the tip of Taichi’s junk was almost at kissing distance. Also, white briefs looked childish on him, but wearing them made the creamy shade of brown beneath them stand out more, and Yamato couldn’t stop searching for its outline.

 

He put down the jockstrap and the vial of vinegar, removed the gloves with a loud whiplash sound, and gently squeezed Taichi’s tensor muscle.    

 

Taichi looked at him and Yamato looked back, fluttering mascara ridden eyelashes. Yamato’s second hand joined the former and both, together, roamed wherever they wanted, almost sliding up to Taichi’s thighs. 

 

Having Yamato’s fair skin brushing against Taichi’s own, seeing it happen and knowing it was _Yamato_ touching him, ignited the sensory receptors lining Taichi’s body. It all turned into a soup of fireworks and electro-magnetic waves.

 

With a single, involved look and without a word, Yamato asked Taichi for permission.

 

Taichi nodded. He wasn’t sure permission for what he was giving exactly but he had a decent fun guessing. Sitting down, Yamato was just the right height.    

 

Yamato’s hands scaled up Taichi’s thighs and popped into his briefs through the leg hole, pushing around and playing with the flimsy, white, and humid cotton. All the while, Yamato was watching Taichi react.

 

A hiss fell out of Taichi’s mouth and crescendoed into a small moan when a whole, squared centimetre of the back of Yamato’s thumb brushed a vein along Taichi’s shaft.

 

“You’ve been a bad boy, Yamato.” Taichi grinned, but it wasn’t his usual, happy-with-a-side-of-dopey grin. It was dirty. “So… Rumour has it your throat is deep and swallows.”

 

Taichi’s hand petted the top of Yamato’s head again but, this time, it drifted to the base of his neck and pushed Yamato’s mouth forward.

 

Replying in kind, Yamato slapped both his hands on Taichi’s arse. He pulled Taichi’s sexy-self till his crotch almost bumped into Yamato’s nose.

 

Eyes locked to Taichi’s, a smirk tugging at his lips without fully showing, Yamato gave a small kiss to the droopy tip, which erected almost to his face, and stretched the elastane of the briefs to its maximum capacity.

 

It was fascinating. Taichi’s eyes were locked on Yamato’s fingers as they formed a fist around his dick and moved slowly up and down his shaft. The motions dragged the fabric of his undies along and it was rubbing his tender skin.

 

Taichi grunted.

 

Yamato’s brewing smirk ripened into its full potential. He pushed Taichi’s erection up and shoved his own face under it, trying to get between Taichi’s legs. He stuck out his tongue and licked the thin strip of cotton nursing Taichi’s balls. Lifting his head a bit more, his nose tickled their underside and he, very gently, gave them a soft suckle.

 

The area had the subtle smell of fabric softener, of pubic hairs, of sweat, and a bit of what Taichi essentially smelt like anway. Yamato swapped away the elastic band lining the briefs and put the entire ball sack inside his mouth till the wiry hairs tickled his palate.   

 

He wasn’t even sure what kind of sound Taichi’d just made. It was one quarter a whine, one third a moan, and the rest was miscellaneous throat noises Yamato couldn’t define. 

 

Every time Yamato sucked, Taichi felt hot drool splashing his balls and they were smacking, full and heavy, the walls of Yamato’s mouth. Knees almost buckling, Taichi clutched the handle of the locker behind him till his knuckles went white – as if that cheap piece of aluminium could carry his weight.

 

When Yamato laughed around him and the vibrations bounced off his sensitive sacks, Taichi really did almost fall and die, and he almost brought the entire array of lockers down with him.

 

“Never got tea-bagged before?” Yamato removed his mouth from Taichi’s bollocks and eased Taichi out of his boxers. He did it so casually and proficiently, one might think he was stripping Taichi for the sole purpose of doing his laundry.

 

Taichi tried regaining a semblance of breath. With a loud clang which echoed in the small changing room, his head hit the door to his locker. He closed his eyes and wiped off sweat from his forehead.  

 

By the time he reopened them, Yamato was pulling a pinkish-red lipstick out of his purse. As Taichi watched, fascinated, Yamato applied it to his lower lip and smacked it against the upper one. Till the lush colour spread evenly between the two, rosy things. And there was such a sweet popping sound when he did that.

Content with the result, Yamato summoned Taichi back to him with the crooking of his finger.

Taichi forgot how breathing works. No one had ever told him Yamato could be this shamelessly horny and act to show it.

 

There was no question – well, there was no choice either. Taichi obeyed and let Yamato roll his finger along Taichi’s swollen, gooey tip.

 

If Taichi could stand there all week and stare at Yamato’s hands, he’d do it. Those hands were made for his spunk-bank and the contrast between their skin colours was hypnotising.

 

Yamato reached one of them between Taichi’s legs and fumbled with Taichi’s balls, as if he was evaluating their quality and weight. The other idly stroked up and down Taichi’s shaft, putting just enough pressure to build up Taichi’s pleasure.

 

Leaning in, Yamato landed a tiny kiss on Taichi’s fevered crown. The viscoid fluid clung to his lips and he smiled up at Taichi.

 

“This is a glorious dick. I bet your balls swing hard when you pound some lucky girl.”

 

Uncontrollable spasms assaulted Taichi’s body and his brain went into overdrive, on the verge of meltdown.

 

This was Yamato! _Yamato!_ And that same Yamato started to take Taichi in.

 

He put the head right at the entrance to his mouth, and circled his pretty lips around it as though he was putting another layer of lipstick.

 

The sizes matched just right, like those shape-sorter toys made for toddlers – only that this game was adult only.

 

Yamato’s pink tongue peeked out of his mouth and swiped across the Taichi’s hard meat, along with the saliva he collected and was now smearing all over it. The spit mingled with Taichi’s pre-cum, and Yamato layered the mixture up and down Taichi’s member, moistening it before trying to shove more of it into his mouth, till it tickled the entrance to his throat.

 

His deep red lips were strained, forming a beautifully tense ring around Taichi’s girth. When Yamato bobbed his head for the first time, he left a trail of lipstick along Taichi’s shaft.

 

And it was all just so _red._

 

Yamato pushed Taichi in further. The moist heat of his throat was intoxicating.

 

From there, it evolved into a sloppy blow job which was one of the best things that had ever happened to Taichi’s penis since Taichi discovered its purpose. It was the first time someone was sucking him so happily – or so publically.

 

He didn’t care where Yamato learnt to do that as long as he didn’t stop.

 

Taichi’s fingers naturally dropped to Yamato’s knee as far as they could reach and stroked up and down Yamato’s thigh. That soft skin, the firm muscles beneath it – it was Taichi’s aphrodisiac.

 

At the same time, Yamato’s unoccupied hand reached beneath his skirt and under the fabric of his knickers, pushing both away before grabbing himself. Taichi was fucking hot. Yamato couldn’t believe it. 

 

Neither of them noticed the rattling of the door knob or the rusty creaking sound of the swinging hinges.

 

“Well, fuck my life. The football captain buggering a sissy-boy!”

 

Taichi and Yamato snapped up so fast, Yamato almost dislocated his neck.

 

Roman stared down at the two of them and at the slackening erection Yamato had in hand – his expression a cross-breed between disgust, shock, and a hint of a smirk.

 

After a quick recovery, Yamato took Taichi out of his mouth and let Taichi shove his now limp dick back into his briefs.

 

Yamato glanced at Taichi. He expected Taichi to wear his best diplomatic face and address the issue at hand with the patience he usually employed against Yamato – not snarl in rage.

 

“What did you say?!”

 

Roman glanced over at Yamato and nodded at him with his squared chin. “Fishing for men while dressed like a fag. You’re were asking for it.”

 

Yamato was about to jump the bloke and introduce his ugly mug to his own shit-stained arsehole, but Taichi put himself between them. Maybe he sensed Yamato shape-shifting into a humanoid jackhammer and didn’t want him to turn the place into a demolition site. Maybe he just didn’t want Roman to even look Yamato’s way. Either way, Taichi was almost combat-ready in a way Yamato hadn’t seen him acting in ages. 

 

“Fucking shit, Roman, I want to beat you so much my dick’s hard!”

 

“I bet it is.” Roman pushed past him to get to his locker and yanked the shoe-inserts out of his trainers. “What a scoop. Wait till the crew hears about this. They’ll be shitting themselves.”

 

Taichi grabbed Roman’s shoulder and span him around. From the light rattling of the lockers behind them, it was obvious Taichi’s leadership instincts were the only thing suppressing the fibres along his body – which were aching to sack Roman right here and now.

 

“Fucking hell, Roman, you’ll be eating my fist and Yamato’s dick if you won’t shut up!”

 

Roman peeked behind Taichi’s shoulders and studied Yamato, his gaze traveling from Yamato’s sweaty thighs to his exposed midriff, and finally to his blue studio eyes.

 

“Well, at least he’s not an _ugly_ poofter.” Roman winked at Yamato before pushing Taichi off of him and exiting the room.

 

“Stellar. That went ass-tits-up,” Taichi mumbled and glared at Roman’s receding back. He tried moving his head and shout shit at the bloke, but Yamato’s firm grasp stopped him.

 

“Taichi, look at me.”

 

Taichi tried to release his face, but Yamato gripped his cheeks harder and grazed his lips on the corner of Taichi’s mouth.

 

“He’s just shocked. Go talk with him and he’ll get over it. You are his _captain_.”

 

Now that was an odd role reversal Taichi couldn’t see coming for the life of him. He thought Yamato would want to smash Roman’s face in for sure and slam dunk him into the toilet, and Taichi would need to stop him. But here they were – Taichi, an inch from doing something he’d regret and Yamato, keeping Taichi sane.

 

Taichi relaxed and wiped sweat of his forehead with the back of his arm. He accepted the jeans, muscle top, and flannel shirt Yamato handed him, and answered the question etched onto Yamato’s face.

 

“Roman has more of a mouth than he has gals, and he’s not the type who’s spicing up his stories. I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his mouth shut, but you won’t have fan-art of your dick on 4chan either.”

 

Once publically appropriate, Taichi jogged after Roman.

 

He found him faster than he even dared to hope, exiting the men’s toilets.

 

Their eyes met and for many tense seconds no one had said anything.

 

Roman wasn’t really the type Taichi would have a heart-to-heart with. Whatever emotional underbelly Roman had was heavily tucked in under a corset of vulgar humour, sexist remarks, and beer-induced burps. The bloke was a riot at parties and all, but not so much with basic human decency.

 

Roman watched him mutely, waiting for Taichi to lay out his piece.

 

With the lack of any better idea on how to approach the topic, there was only one thing Taichi could do. And after he’d do it, he’d need to wash his mouth with acid, and spend the rest of his adult life apologizing to Yamato profusely.

 

“He has a very groomed arsehole,” Taichi answered the question Roman never asked.

 

After a moment of silence during which Roman processed the information, one hell of a howling laughter blasted out of him. He had to wipe his eyes and tried answering several times, but was choked before he managed to.

 

Taichi used the momentum to keep on going and stooping down to Roman’s level of understanding. “And I mean, how many girls you know let you fuck them in the arse? And his arsehole is _puny_.” Taichi demonstrated with his thumb and index, curling them into a small circle. “It’s _this_ tight.”

 

He will hate himself in five minutes or so.

 

***

 

Yamato was standing near the door to the changing rooms by the time Taichi returned, playing snake on his phone. A loud and bass-heavy rhythm sieved through his ear beads and was audible throughout a two metre radios extending from him. How Yamato hadn’t gone deaf by now – Taichi would never know.

 

Taichi tugged his shoulder and Yamato lifted his gaze, plucking out an ear-piece in the process.

 

“How did it ago?” Yamato asked under the same breath he used to deposit a dirty jockstrap and cleaning utensils into Taichi’s hands.

 

Taichi gave him a couldn’t-you-have-sorted-this-out look while he took the stuff and answered, “I think it went well. I need to go and swallow acid to clean my mouth, but I don’t think Roman will give us grief.”

 

Yamato replied with an I’m-not-gonna-do-your-work-for-you stare, nodded, and resumed scrubbing his own portion of jockstraps.

 

For a while, there wasn’t much going on. The sounds of chafing plastic echoed through the humid locker room and the sun was changing altitudes in the sky.

 

Finishing another one, Taichi hung the jockstrap next to Eiichi’s locker. Yamato’s tall profile was facing him, absorbed in the monotony of the chore they assigned for themselves.

 

Taichi put the vinegar, scrub brush, and baking powder on the bench, dropping whatever he was doing. In one step, he evacuated the content of Yamato’s hands and put himself between them, instead. His arms wrapped around Yamato’s waist, mashing their torsos together. The back of his fist stroked the naked skin of Yamato’s back and he buried his face in Yamato’s hair.

 

Tension coiled around Yamato’s frame, but it dissolved fast enough, and he slid his hands up Taichi’s shoulders, craning his neck.

 

Taichi’s mouth naturally dipped to kiss it and Yamato shuddered.

 

“What’s with you?”

 

Taichi hummed. “Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Taichi weaved his fingers in Yamato’s hair and inhaled the scent of his shampoo.

 

“He said awful things to you. I almost neutered him and brought a shovel to his head. How did you stay so calm?”

 

Yamato tightened his grasp on Taichi’s body. “That’s part of what being gay sometimes is, Taichi. Some people are just terminally stupid. If I’d sack every single idiot, I’d be serving life sentence by now.”

 

He lifted his head and kissed Taichi on the forehead before taking a step back and pointing at the diminishing pile of jockstraps. “You finished your half?”

 

“Three more to go.”

 

“So let’s get it over with and you could get me _Karaage_  chicken as compensation.”

 

Taichi smiled and Yamato mirrored him. Bribing Taichi with food was too easy.

 

By the time they entered Taichi’s rundown Toyota in the uni’s parking lot, the sky was as orange as Taichi’s crest and there was no one on the street. It created a kind of lazy atmosphere which made Yamato sleepy.

 

Taichi rolled down the car windows to let the breeze cool off the burning plastics in the vehicle, but didn’t fire up the engine. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back into the seat. The incoming light tinted his face gold.

 

He looked so relaxed, Yamato was bloody jealous. He lowered his head, thought for a moment, and let it drop all the way to Taichi’s chest. Sexy chest.

 

Taichi gave a pleased hum and wrapped an arm around Yamato’s shoulder. A few of his fingers rose to caress Yamato’s soft cheek.

 

The top of Taichi’s shirt was slightly open and so help him, but somehow that turned Yamato right on.

 

“My feet hurt.” Yamato lifted said feet and reclined them against the door’s window, rubbing his now inclined thighs some. He kinda wished he’d wore nylon stockings today. This trick would look way better.

 

No problem there, though. It worked like a charm, and Yamato could _feel_ Taichi scanning the ministrations of Yamato’s fingers on his own skin.

 

Taichi’s fingers joined his and they slowly… slowly sailed up Yamato’s inner thigh. To his skirt. And under.

 

Yamato’s heart rate picked up and he opened his legs a bit further, letting Taichi in. His own fingernails snaked through the fabric of Taichi’s flannel and under his shirt. They traced their way down Taichi’s spine to his lower back and to his flanks, tickling him a bit.

 

“Eeek!” Taichi squealed, lifted Yamato’s face, and kissed him. Yamato was surprised, but relaxed just fine. The next sequence of events erupted into a slow, hot, and sloppy snogging session.

 

When they broke apart for air, Taichi dropped his mouth to Yamato’s ear.

 

“Want me to fuck you till you see stars…?”

 

Yamato swallowed saliva, lubricating his throat. For a few days now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel like to have Taichi fuck him in the arse, and if it would be good after the pain went away.

 

 His eyes flew up to meet Taichi’s gaze which was in the middle of lapping up his entire body.

 

“Yes, please…”

 

Taichi leaned and kissed him again.

 

He pulled back, slightly, teasing Yamato with his lips – which were _just_ close enough to touch, but didn’t. Then he did, biting Yamato’s lip while sliding a hand under his shirt.

 

Yamato moaned gently, and his heart fluctuated like a punching bag when Taichi laid him down in his seat. He shifted and started trailing kissed down Yamato’s neck, grazing Yamato’s skin with his teeth and memorizing the pale body beneath him with his mouth.

 

“Taichi…”

 

Taichi bit down and Yamato whined. He let out a small breath when Taichi’s hands travelled between his thighs again.

 

For Taichi, this was magic. Yamato was magic. Taichi’s palms sailed beneath that petite skirt to wrap his fingers around one smooth and bare cheek, and it had the same texture as magic. Firm, elastic…. Magic. The way Yamato’s legs were happily parting for him? Aham, yeah, that was magic.

 

Speaking of Yamato’s legs – they circled Taichi’s waist and crossed at the ankles, tugging Taichi closer to the centre of Yamato’s body.

 

As close as they could – Yamato wanted to feel the pressure of Taichi’s well-muscled torso against his own. He wanted to feel Taichi’s heart echoing off his bones and vibrating in his body.

 

He yanked Taichi’s hair to adjust his face to Yamato’s mouth and Taichi almost thought Yamato was trying to eat him.

 

Steam accumulated on the windows and sweat ran between Yamato’s thighs, making them sticky and a bit blotchy. On top of that, wetness was building up on his dick and dirtying his knickers. He hoped Taichi will rip them off him soon.

 

Speaking of Taichi, why was that arsehole so fucking dressed? It was a 200% degree of humidity outside and inside the car. They were like two sexy lobsters boiling in a hot-pot.

 

“Come here!”

 

Yamato’s dexterous hands were called to the rescue. Taichi obeyed, sitting up to remove his shirt and in an instant Yamato joined him, frantically working on Taichi’s trousers. Said fingers dived to Taichi’s straining zip and yanked it down before reaching into the hard warmth inside.

 

Gooseflesh broke across Taichi’s stomach and a moan came from his mouth. He desperately bucked into the pressure Yamato tried giving him, but almost plunged, face-first, into the steering wheel in the process, and honked for the street to hear.

 

He growled, yelped, and whined – all at the same time – before planting his arse back on his seat and pulling Yamato to him. Taichi pulled the lever beneath them so the seat dipped down, and arranged Yamato’s legs so that the pretty boy was sitting spread in Taichi’s lap, each leg dangling on a different side.

 

Wide grin slapped on his face, Taichi ran his hands up and down Yamato’s naked thighs, slipping them under his stupid skirt and tickling that sensitive spot on the backside of Yamato’s knee. Soft knee. Soft knee that connects to soft shins and soft thighs.

 

Taichi grabbed Yamato’s wrist and shoved his hand into his trunks, wanting him to touch Taichi’s bare skin and make it hard.

 

He left Yamato to it while unzipping Yamato’s hoodie and revealing one of his many lacy bras. This one had a little ribbon in the front.

 

Taichi’s paws climbed under the slinky fabric and cupped the little ‘tits’ and nips underneath.

 

Yamato mewled softly and pushed himself and his arse into Taichi’s crotch, almost, _almost_ sitting on Taichi’s dick.

 

Things were just about to get hot and saucy when a rap on the window almost made Yamato smash his face into the car’s ceiling.

 

Outside stood an extravagantly embarrassed copper – all smart and polished in his ironed, blue uniform, but so sunburnt-red in the face he looked like he spent twenty hours too many in a self-tanning machine. 

 

Oh, what a sight they must have been. Yamato’s bum was all over the place, dishevelled clothing everywhere, and Taichi, with his dick _gloriously_ whipped out, bouncing Yamato on his lap as if he was a four year old. That was one for the books.

 

For whatever reason, Taichi jumped to cover Yamato and protect his modesty, but left his cock hanging out. The poor officer couldn’t meet their eyes. He didn’t even write them a ticket or give them a warning – just asked them to kindly move their business elsewhere for the sake of decency and public morals.

 

There was plenty of shame to go around that afternoon. Taichi and Yamato put their arses back in their respective seats, reserved the right to remain silent, and drove off.

 

And Taichi’s junk, limp from said shame, was _still_ somehow hanging outside his big-boy-briefs by the time they hit the highway. What a day.

 

“So… are we going to continue this?” Yamato asked when they exited the intersection near Big Sight.

 

It took a few seconds for Taichi to figure out how to answer this. “I don’t know, mate. The mood had kinda gone to a better place and I think my dick is traumatised,” but those were a few seconds to many.

 

“I want to have crazy, naked sex,” Yamato said, with a ‘you promised!’ subtext.

 

Taichi threw him a look before refocusing on the road. “Dude, you’re not a virgin. It’s just sex. Why are you making such a huge deal out of it?”

 

It was Yamato’s turn to take his time. Not because he didn’t know what he wanted to say, but because he thought it was supposed to be super obvious. He watched Taichi drive without saying anything, as if he was trying to punch Taichi with his eyeballs, but Taichi was immersed in handling the wheel and gears – which by all means was a wonderful, _wonderful,_ brilliant use of his attention! – so Yamato gave up on playing the cryptic, offended party.

 

“Taichi, I want to feel that all of me is loved…”

 

Shit. Somehow, they were really arse about face about it.

 

After they made a turn, Taichi’s pupils skipped to the edges of his eyes and his hand slipped into Yamato’s.

 

“All of you is loved.”

 

The statement came out so smoothly and naturally, Yamato’s follow-up came just as fast.

 

“Think you’re a good driver?”

 

“Meh. Decent enough.”

 

Hop, Taichi’s dick hopped into Yamato’s mouth again, and he was happily sucking on it with his ass and skirt in the air, moving his hips to the rhythm as if he was begging Taichi to spank him and wanted to take it up the-

 

Whoo!

 


	7. Did You Think About That?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's anoter one! :)

“Yamato!” Taichi whined, still standing at the door and using the frame like a dolt with the hand that wasn’t clutching a bitten-off toast, while trying to toe off his shoes,“I am super hungry! My tummy is literally going ‘goo’ ‘goo’! fill it!”

 

Lifting his gaze from his feet, he found Yamato staring at him with his electric toothbrush still buzzing up his gums. He was wearing his yellow Pompompurin shirt and nothing else, so his pretty, long legs were showing. So long! So pretty!

 

Taichi ‘ping’-ed Yamato’s nose and quickly withdrew his finger before Yamato bit it off.

 

Just one look from Yamato made Taichi forget all about his troubles – and give him a boner instead. But… well… he wanted to… but… It was Yamato! And Taichi just… sort of… they hadn’t done it yet. Taichi wasn’t sure why. He just couldn’t get his ass in gear and do it. It’s not like he didn’t want to. Yamato was sex waiting to happen. If it were anyone else, Taichi would have jumped their bones but good by now. Well, he would have jumped some _girl’s_ bones.

 

Taichi gave Yamato a quick kiss and made a dash to the shower before Yamato could outrun him.

 

When Taichi came out, freshened up with soapy smells and a towel around his head, Yamato had already fixed them a couple of tuna and mayo rice balls each, and a pot of black-mud coffee.

 

“Oi, Taichi.”

 

“Yeeeees?”

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“Can’t I just want to visit my sexy boyfriend and watch him flounce his legs around?”

 

“At 8 AM on a vacation? Wearing mismatched socks?”

 

Taichi picked up a rice ball and started munching on it.

 

“Hikari pissed me off. We had a fight and I didn’t feel like staying home.”

 

Yamato let his surprise be displayed by his rising eyebrows. He sat next to Taichi and watched him nibble away. A grain of rice fell out of his lips and got glued to the side of his mouth in a way which was too cute for Yamato to handle. He brushed it off with his thumb and continued the motion to Taichi’s cheek, caressing him.

 

“That’s unusual…” He said, letting the words stretch as if he hoped Taichi will take the initiative and fill in the blanks.

 

Some incoherent noises replaced Taichi’s speech function around his rice ball, and he chewed off another bite, but that wasn’t much of anything really and didn’t help Yamato any.

 

“Was it serious?” Yamato asked in a desperate attempt to get more feedback out of Taichi.

 

“It’s not that it was serious…” Taichi returned the rice ball to the plate in favour of drinking his coffee in long sips, putting the mug down, adding more sugar in, and putting it back in his mouth. “It was just annoying and very unnecessary for my day,” he said around the rim of his mug, gurgling down the hot liquid.

 

Yamato waited to see if Taichi would volunteer any more information, but when it became apparent Taichi won’t do any such thing, Yamato let it go and dug into his own food. If Taichi wanted to start emoting, he knew where to find Yamato.

 

On his part, it’s not that Taichi didn’t appreciate Yamato showing that he cared. It’s always fun when Yamato acted honest. But the conversation – argument – he had with Hikari earlier was still replaying in his head and he was trying to decide where he was standing with all this – which reduced his ability to focus only on Yamato. Shamefully _and_ ironically enough. Sure, he deflected whatever she hurled at him – at seven bloody AM right after his workout! He didn’t even get to wash the sweat out of his bollocks – but at the back of his mind he had to admit she may not have been totally off the rocker.

 

So, that’s what he was doing now. No, it wasn’t fun. He hated his brain. He just wanted to spoon Yamato’s legs and feel comforted. But – nooooooo!

 

Stupid brain. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ brain.

                                                                                                ***

_“Taichi?”_

_Taichi dropped his towel on the back of his chair, and stuffed his used socks into each other before tossing them to the wash-bin._

_“Morning Hika.”_

_“Can I talk to you?”_

_Taichi sat on his desk chair and spun towards Hikari with an energetic “WEEEE!” along the way. “What’s up?”_

_Hikari put her latte mug down on one of Taichi’s coasters and looked directly at him._

_“What’s with you and Yamato?”_

_Straight to the point._

_“What’s with me and Yamato?”_

_Yeah, that was lame. Taichi was aware of it. He wasn’t fooling anyone, but Hikari just dumped this on him and he had no idea where the hell this was going, so he ended up trying to buy some time so he could figure this shit out._

_“Why were you snogging him?”_

_Taichi was stumped. Alright, fair, they weren’t the most discreet with their choices of make-out locations, but it’s not like they made a spectacle about it either. And they did avoid doing it anywhere family members may pop up. Especially after Yamato’s dad almost walked in on Taichi bonking his son in a frilly skirt._

_“Why? You jealous?” Taichi offered with a half-assed grin._

_“Taichi…”_

_“When did you see us anyway? Are you spying on me on your free-time or something?”_

_Trading her peace-keeping, small-bodied pose to a ‘oh-no-you-didn’t!’ stance with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyebrows scrunched down to her nose._

_He was in for a whooping._

_“Taichi! I’m worried about you! Both of you! And if you have to know – no, no I didn’t see you two. Takeru did! At the park near Big Sight. What were you thinking?!”_

_Taichi combed his hair with his fingers and watched a snail making its slow way outside the windowpane. He refocused on Hikari and said, “look, you’re right. I’m sorry. We’ll be more discreet next time.”_

_Hikari stared at him and shook her head as if she didn’t know what else to do. “That’s not the issue.”_

_It was Taichi’s turn to stare at her. “So what is the bloody issue?”_

_“He’s a man, Taichi!”_

_“No shit he’s a man!”_

_Hikari smacked her hands into her face and growled into her palms before rubbing them into her eyes. “You are not attracted to men! Yamato is!”_

_Taichi sighed instead of yelling back, choosing one vent over the other. “Look, Hika, drop it. Everyone has trouble. Mine simply has a pretty pair of blue eyes attached to them.”_

_“No, Taichi! I am not going to drop it! What don’t you understand?! You’re only with him because of how he looks! The moment that skirt drops you’re going to remember that, and then what? ‘oh sorry, Yamato, I forgot dicks are icky.’ Is that how it’s gonna be?!”_

_Taichi threw his hands to the air, cast his head down, shook it, and looked back up at his sister._

_“You know what? Sod you.”_

_The verbal abuse didn’t move Hikari an inch, though, and she wasn’t letting up._

_“Did you sleep with him?”_

_“That’s none of y-“_

_“Did you?”_

_Taichi dropped his hand, letting his fist dangle near his hip. “No, but not for lack of trying. We were just interrupted every time we tried.”_

_Hikari waited, pinning him down with a poignant stare._

_Taichi crushed back on the bed, arse first. “Hikari… no, I’m not stupid, and the dresses and lacy knickers didn’t confuse me. I didn’t suddenly forget Yamato’s a man and I don’t think he‘s a girl. I’m fully aware of the penis under that skirt. It’s more like… I see him and think how pretty he looks… How pretty he looks with me. And… that makes me feel pretty too. The girly clothes just made me see what my happy-hetro self didn’t know was there. Maybe I never thought about Yamato in that way because, in my head, I thought I’m not supposed to – you know, ‘cause if I’m a heterosexual, supposedly, I’m obviously not supposed to be attracted to guys. So… you know, either all this sex and sexuality business is more complicated than I thought or I got my own sexuality wrong all this time. At the end of the day, hot things are hot. And Yamato is hot. I mean, you should see the way people look at us.”_

_He drifted off, as if he thought about something and tried making sense of it at the same time. Taichi didn’t need a posse to follow him around and compliment him or a girlfriend who hung on his shoulder and pampered him; he needed friends who could criticise him when he was wrong but stay by him till he got it right - real friendship. And who can achieve that better than Yamato? And who had a better set of legs than Yamato?_

_“I don’t think I can tell you for sure that we are crazy, head-over-heels, Disney-on-steroids in love lovey-dovey with each other but, right now, we are happy with how things are. Besides, did it ever occur to you that maybe falling for best friends is a Yagami trait?”_

_Hikari knitted her eyebrows. “I know you’re trying to be funny ‘n’ all, but don’t try to make this about me.” Her posture slackened some after she said what she had to, and she let her arms drop to her sides. “Look, Taichi, if you really are serious about him, then that’s great and I wish you all the best, but just in case you aren’t – all I ask is that you’d act your age. Be responsible.”_

_Taichi let a few more quiet seconds to pass between them before he nodded and tried to remake his signature grin. “The hearts wants what it wants, sister.”_

_“Your heart or your dickhead?”_

 

***

 

“Ground control to major Taichi. Come in Taichi.”

 

It wasn’t until Yamato smacked Taichi on his head that he finally got a bloody response.

 

Taichi jumped in place and slapped his Keratin bush straight into Yamato’s face. “Woah! Sorry, did I drift?”

 

Yamato released his cheeks from the brown confines of Taichi’s mess and stared at him. He moved his arse a few more CM forward till it was hinging on the edge of his stool and leaned over, trying to have a better look at Taichi’s face.

 

“You sure you all right?”

 

Taichi did a round around the table, like he was looking for something, before landing back on Yamato, and offering a small smile. “I’m alright… Just bogged down by that rubbish argument from earlier… but, hey… mmm… can I ask you something?”

 

“Since when do you need permission for that?”

 

Taichi gave out a small laugh, but it sounded like a fake.

 

He shot – “Do you like it? Looking like a girl n’ all?”

 

It took Yamato a few good seconds to say anything. Maybe he tried to do some soul-searching with a few difficult questions to give a proper, thought-out answer, or maybe he tried figuring Taichi out. He put his hands in front of him on the table and rapped on the surface.

 

“I don’t… hate it. The knickers ride up sometimes, but it’s alright with a thong. And everyone is nice to me – even if it’s just because they want to get under my skirt.”

 

“Do you think you’ll wear it even when the business with Mimi is over?”

 

“Fuck no!”

 

Taichi flinched – but he got where Yamato was coming from.

 

“Why would you even ask that?!”

Oh. Shit.

 

Yamato just tried to make Taichi feel better and acted more receptive than average, and now Taichi made him feel like crap. What a great boyfriend he was – not to mention best friend.

 

“Sorry, mate. I was just wondering what’s your relationship with the concept at the moment,” he said and stroked some of the fingers Yamato left on the table.

 

“Not partial to it, Taichi,” Yamato ground out.

 

“Sorry…”

 

“Yeah, well, bugger off.”

 

A tense silence.

 

Taichi watched Yamato and the many expressions he was making without knowing it. Taichi could tell the exact moment Yamato started regretting snapping at him and defrosted like a popsicle.

 

Ergo, Taichi figured he may as well help the process.

 

“Can I ask you something else?”

 

“Will you bloody stop asking me if you can ask shit?!”

 

Taichi leaned to the side and gave Yamato’s cheek a kiss before Yamato had the chance to slap him away.

 

“Ok, so… How did you know you’re…” Taichi trailed off, his focal point again jumping all over the room.

 

“Into men?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Yamato’s posture eased a bit and he didn’t smack Taichi after all. “Basically like everyone else. Got bored one day and discovered my sexuality. You don’t get the pull of thighs extending from mini-skirts, get hot in the gym’s shower rooms when you’re around fourteen and you figure it out. You know… you see a guy and realise that you think he’s kinda… sexy? Then you get a bit drunk at the after party of one of your gigs, kiss your keyboardist… and maybe a few other blokes and realise you like it. Why do you ask?”

 

Taichi’s intestines leapt into his heart. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he managed to get a grip, and say what he needed without stuttering.

 

“I think I’m gay.”

 

Yamato didn’t say anything. 

 

He stared at Taichi, who had creases plaguing his forehead, as if he waited for him to explode.

 

“At least for you,” Taichi added while picking at his fingers.

 

Another pause followed before Yamato said anything. “Is that a bad thing…?”

 

Taichi glimpsed at him. Outsiders may think Yamato looked relaxed, but there was tension in the flick of his fingers, which were massaging the hollow between his collarbones in pacifying circles, and in his shoulders that went way too high up.

 

Taichi shrugged. “It doesn’t feel bad. I just… never been gay, so I’m not really sure how I feel right now.” he pushed his hand into his hair and the fingers gave a few pulls at the roots.

 

Everything went quiet. But it was loaded. Like the air was a bomb being fed with dynamite and at any minute, everything would go BOOM.

 

Taichi played around with several possible outcomes when he told all this to Yamato, but somehow this tense atmosphere wasn’t one of them. He kinda anticipated Yamato to smack him at worst and be all blushing-teenager schoolboy at best, but Taichi didn’t expect Yamato to just sit there, desperate to break eye contact with Taichi, and stare at his fingers while they rapped on the empty table in agitation. These were some special levels of communicative awkwardness.

 

“You’re not gay,” Yamato said flatly, distress carving lines into his brow. “At the very extreme, you may be bisexual and I doubt even that. You only started acting like this because I dress like a woman.” Yamato’s eyes were still glued to the table. He knew it. He bloody well knew it. Taichi’s gay-transformation was out of nowhere and way too fast.

Yamato nodded his head as if he was having this conversation with himself. “We had a lovely time. We had.” 

 

Taichi stared at him and then moved his head to stare at… something. His head may as well fall off his arse. Or into it since this is shit. “I really don’t know what to say right now.”

 

“Let’s break up.”

 

The sense of taste in Taichi’s mouth dissipated and sandy dryness replaced it. How did this crap-typhoon hit him in all its mighty glory round after round after round? What happened? How did this day happen?

 

He looked at Yamato.

 

That’s it. That’s the only thing he managed to accomplish.

 

“… Why?” came out of Taichi with the smallest voice in the world.

 

Under the table, Yamato clutched the hem of his shirt with both his fists and tried really hard not to look into Taichi’s big, brown eyes. “… You know, Taichi, there are two types of gay men. The type that keeps a girl or a wife at home while casually meeting up with twinks and screwing them 3, 4, or 10 times in a motel. And then there the hard-core gays that really go for it. I don’t want to find out which category you’re in.”

 

Yamato looked really gutted about this. The emotions Yamato usually carefully guarded when he was around almost anyone else, overflowed in his eyes and there were so many of them. Care, concern, anger. A lot of self-convincing went on down there.

 

“As far as you dating me goes, I’m just a piece of pretty ass on two legs, right? That’s all this is. In a couple of weeks I’ll go back to being a man and you’ll remember that. So… let’s stop this before either one of us gets hurt.”

 

“Wait! Yamato! I don’t wan-“

 

“And I don’t want to keep pretending for your mates. Make a spectacle of breaking up with me tonight in front of everyone, for all I care. But I am not going to be your call-boy.”

 

He got up and marched to his room. “Wash the dishes after you,” he said over his shoulder and closed the door.

 

Taichi had no idea how long he spent sitting and trying to figure out what just happened and how he started the day with a boyfriend and best friend and two hours later had none.

 

No boyfriend. No Yamato.

 

Up on his feet, Taichi stormed off after him. He had a choice of words for that blonde bastard, but he forgot what they were when he was near Yamato’s room.

 

The shut door rattled every time a heavy ‘thumph’ hit it, and vibrated between ‘thumph’s the rest of the time. From the floor, heavy crying echoed down the corridor.

 

Yamato was sitting on the floor and crying. Smashing his head back into the door in between sobs. And crying.

 

Taichi wanted to die.

 

He put his hand on the door, feeling the wood shaking under his skin. There wasn’t much he could do, but he didn’t want to leave.

 

At the same time, he didn’t want to force Yamato to do anything, or shove himself into Yamato’s room when Yamato wanted to be alone.

 

And if he was crying, Yamato wanted to be alone.

 

“Taichi…?” cracked from the slit under the door.

 

Taichi moved his hand away. What should he do? What was he supposed to do?

 

“Yamato…“

 

“Taichi, please…” Came Yamato’s sand-paper of a voice.

 

“Yama-“

 

“Please, Taichi! Please! Just go!”

 

That put things in a strict perspective. Taichi swirled on his heel and ran out of the house. Out of the street.

 

***

For the sake of giving Yamato space – and proving he was as much a potential to be a boyfriend as he hoped he was as a best friend – Taichi only texted him once, to update him on that party at Eiichi’s they were supposed to be at, and give him the address.

 

From there on end, it was loads of fidgeting, second-guessing, a tinge of depression, and trying to shove his legs into his jacket sleeves to wear it as trousers for half an hour before falling on his arse.

 

And why? Why today of all days did Yamato had to look so gosh darn adorable! Just standing there near the main gate with his pretty stockings and prettier legs, and that little flower bush in the background which made him look like an idol from a music video, plucked straight from a magazine.

 

Taichi just wanted to run his hands all over that smooth skin, hug Yamato again, and tell him everything would be all right. That Taichi would make everything all right. But that’s not how it works, inn’t? 

 

Instead, his eyes were laser-pointing the pavement when he murmured a very sad and pathetic ‘hello-what’s-up?-you-look-nice,’ and Yamato had about as much mobility on his face as a ceramic garden gnome.

 

They went up to Eiichi’s apartment, stealing side-glances at each other. It was so awkward there wasn’t even a word in the dictionary to describe this level of awkwardness. Maybe a screwed-in butt-plug shaped like a 12 year old could compare. Maybe.

 

At the door, Yamato let Taichi throw an arm around his shoulder so they could uphold their act for now.

 

Taichi was empty.

 

When that stupid door opened though, he and Yamato both cleaned their faces off traces of discomfort. Smooth slate. Marble rock. Distress? Anxiety? Problems? To the bin! They were all about ‘em pristine peel-off masks and rubber smiles.

 

Eiichi let them in and gave the same eyeball to Yamato Taichi learnt to expect. Usually, that made Taichi feel damn good about himself; having such a sexy girlfriend. It scratched all the right ego spots. Now Taichi was just plain miserable and cranky.

 

Running on auto-pilot, both he and Yamato were plucking brewskys off the snack table in less than a minute since marching in.

 

And now they just stood there, like a pair of dildos, trying not to look like a crisis was happening, but also inflating personal space bubbles and not touching each other. Jesus _fuck_ , that was bollocks!

 

“Do whatever you fucking want…” Taichi grumbled and went to sulk on the lazy-boy near the window.

He stuck his face outside and tried his best to ignore all the dancing bodies in the room. Or anyone else who was having fun for that matter.

 

Yamato watched him go. This was shit. This was so much shit. This was so much colossal shit. This was a pile of shit sitting on top of another, more hungover pile of shit. He probably didn’t go about this the best way possible, did he? Nope, no he didn’t. He vomited his anxieties all over Taichi and went on being a complete wanker about it.

 

Yamato dunked his head back against the wall, feeling the satisfying ‘thunk’ of two hard objects colliding and the bones in his neck grinding against each other.

 

He should talk to Taichi – and do a much better bloody job at it than the spectacular cataclysm he’d been doing so far.

 

He just had to evacuate a litre of ethanol from his blood stream, and he’d be mint.

 

It took him a few. Yamato had to double check the lock to make sure the toilet door was closed, and then make sure it was really, _really_ closed. Plus, his dick wasn’t having it tonight and he ended with quite the impressive piss break.

 

Now he just had to take a deep breath, make his bra less of a torture, and do it. _Do it!_

 

He re-entered the living room and zigzagged his way through the dancing athletes and their friends. Well, calling it dancing would be an overstatement. It looked more like a mass-seizure. Anyway, the point being that Yamato had to push a few beef-cakes out of the way to try and accomplish this pilgrimage towards Taichi’s sulking spot.

 

Yamato made it almost all the way out of the meaty pool, but stopped before he really reached Taichi. He kinda didn’t want to interrupt Taichi and the girl sitting on Taichi’s lap – who, by the way, was busy snogging the daylight out of his stupid face.

 

That was all right. Yamato expected it. He told Taichi to do it.

 

Didn’t mean he was ready for it.

 

When Taichi’s eyes landed on him for a sec’ there, Yamato turned around and left.

 

On a cognitive level, he was aware he stormed out of the apartment and clomped with his legs down the stairs as if he was stabbing bodies under his heels, but none of it registered. It was more like he was crossing a corridor that wouldn’t end and the exact same walls just passed on next to him on repeat, over and over again.

 

He was out.

 

That was fast.

 

The street was a street. It was a street. There’s a streetlamp. It’s a street.

 

So… Yamato should go home.

 

“Oi!” Came behind him before he got too far away, along with the squeak of trainers hitting the asphalt.

 

Yamato turned around just in time for Roman to almost bump into him. Roman halted a few centimetres from his face and both of them just kinda stood there, all awkward and shit, with Yamato waiting for Roman to cough it up already, and Roman trying to figure out what he was doing there.

 

“You don’t have you leave, ya know,” Roman said, eventually. “Taichi’s an arsehole, but that doesn’t mean anything ‘bout you. You’re still a dish, you get me?”

 

He looked around, found a bench and dragged Yamato to it. The result was still awkward – only that they were seated.

 

Yamato appreciated whatever it was Roman tried to pull off for his sake, though – awkwardness and all. It was pretty decent. Who would have the thought?

 

So they chatted a bit. It wasn’t bad.

 

“I heard gay men do it in the arse,” Roman said, in a half-question kinda way, when the conversation reeled into the topic of sex – as a conversation between two dudes would go.

 

“Some of us do.”

 

Roman gave Yamato a look.

 

“Do you?”

 

That was a mood.

 

“I do.”

 

It was like beats in a rap song.

 

“Pretend I’m him,” Roman said.

 

Yamato turned his head.

 

Roman kissed him.

 

“Wait, Roma-”

 

“Don’t talk.”

 

Slowly, Yamato responded, pulling Roman closer as he was pushed down.

 

Roman groped up Yamato’s legs, from knees to thighs and up, up, up.

 

Yamato’s skirt pooled around his waist. His top was pushed up, crinkled and messy.

 

In minutes, Yamato writhed under Roman’s weight, his legs spread on either side of Roman’s body, flailing in the air helplessly. He threw his head back and he was having a good time. And he was showing it. Letting Roman know he was clearly having fun.

 

Was sex happening? ‘Cause Yamato’d appreciate sex happening. A distraction from Taichi eating some random girl’s face would be very appropriate right now. A sexy distraction. In the form of some pain in the ass of the good kind.

 

Maybe Roman was a telepath. “I don’t want your dick to touch me when I fuck you.”  He flipped Yamato on his belly and was well on his way to rip his own jeans apart.

 

“Roman, get off him,” Taichi’s strained monotone droned over their heads. It was the best he could do not to tear Roman a new one on the spot – and Taichi was _that_ close.

 

His brain hated his eyes for seeing this, and he felt like his heart just got punched.

 

Roman looked up at Taichi, got up, and zipped himself. “Not my fault you like guys who can’t keep their legs closed…” he said when he went near Taichi and disappeared inside Eiichi’s complex building.

 

Yamato, on the other hand, kept his face trained on the bench and was steadfast on acting like Taichi was a big, chunky piece of turd Yamato didn’t want in his immediate radius.

 

He arranged his tongue back in place, straightened himself up – as much as physics and biochemistry allowed him – and, without sparing Taichi half a glance, went away.

 

Trainer soles rubbed against the little rocks sticking out of the pavement and Taichi grabbed Yamato’s wrist.

 

“Yama…”

 

Yamato didn’t yank his arm away – which was a plus –but he didn’t really react in any other way either.

 

“Yamato, look-“

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Taichi clasped him harder and twirled him around, forcing Yamato to look at him. “What does that even mean?!”

 

“It means that I don’t give a rotten shit if you just licked some girl’s tonsils! We aren’t a couple anymore. You can snog whoever you want without making up some piss-poor excuses. I don’t need your fucking pity!”

 

“I didn’t kiss her! She kissed me! She was on the piss and thought I looked like a grown-up baby Chanco!”

 

“Well, you didn’t exactly push her off, did you?”

 

“I _did_ , Yamato.” Taichi loosened his grip, when it didn’t seem like Yamato was about to bolt, and looked away. “You just had to be a drama queen…”

 

Yamato drilled into his skull, like he was trying to perform a mental lobotomy.

 

“It still doesn’t matter, Taichi.”

 

“How doesn’t it matter?!”

 

“Because you’re not doing anything!”

 

Taichi was about to argue, but Yamato shut him up before he opened his mouth. “Sure, you’re all in for the groping, but when I want you to fuck me, suddenly you’re busy, or it’s a bad timing, or you’re not in the mood, or Hikari’s in the other room, right?” He yanked his arm away from Taichi and crossed it on his chest. “Gay. My. Ass. It’s like Schrödinger’s dick with you!” He sighed and rubbed his temples against the migraine he was developing. “Look, Taichi, I’m gonna break my arse on a dick that’s willing to break it.”

 

He lifted his thumb into the road, pulled over a taxicab, and got in without saying another word. Taichi heard him giving the driver his address just before they rode off. Since Yamato didn’t bother raising the pitch of his voice, the driver was in for quite a shock when that deep, rumbling bass came out of that pretty dress.

 

Taichi watched the car merge into the distance and blink out of sight as the taxi took the turn at the end of the street, and he was left there with the darkness, alone.

 

Nah-huh. No way. This isn’t how is going down. If Yamato thought Taichi was gonna nod his head obediently and take it like a bitch, he was bloody delusional. If Yamato wanted to break up after he heard Taichi out, that’s one thing – but like hell would Taichi leave things messed up like this.

 

Fine, yeah, Taichi didn’t exactly have the money to pay a fancy psychologist to do some Freudian magic trick and tell Taichi what his sexuality was like. And maybe what Yamato said about Taichi being more bi than gay is possible… Maybe it’s even reasonable… But Taichi didn’t need a gazillion sub-categories to tell him who he is.

 

He wasn’t being hyperbolic when he suggested to Yamato he may be gay. Maybe the terminology wasn’t on point, but his feelings were.

 

He already knew he wanted to be with Yamato.

 

He knew he wanted to go to bed with him. Take him to his room and make love to him on _his_ bed.

 

And that’s all Taichi needed to know.

 

Why wouldn’t he want to spend the rest of his life with the one person he was closest to and who opened him bare? Everything they’ve gone through made their bond too unique for anything else to compare.

 

Without saying his ‘bye-bye’s to his mates, Taichi got into his car, turned on the radio and drove off, following the same route the taxi did while trying to get inspired for what he was about to say to Yamato. 

 


	8. What's a nipple and a laugh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost the last chapter! I won't lie, it would be easier on my pecked schedual when I'll finish posting this story, but damn - what a ride!

The rhythmic pounding of water against the porcelain rambled through the door and the steam rolled from under the slit.

 

Taichi knocked on the shower door.

 

No answer.

 

Taichi knocked again.

 

“Yamato…?”

 

And it was so irresponsible of Yamato to just leave the front door unlocked. What if Taichi’s football mates had the same idea Taichi had and they would have snatched Yamato away? Or confess their undying love? Taichi would have had to go on a killing spree. Really, this was so unlike Yamato.

 

Taichi’s fist was an inch from the door, but before he knocked the third time, Yamato yelled, “just get in, you arsehole!”

 

So Taichi did.

 

A nylon bathroom curtain separated him from Yamato and created a noise which bounced off the moist walls when water sprayed it.

 

Taichi moved it and climbed into the shower with Yamato – clothes and all.

 

Yamato stood with his back to him, head thrown backwards and hands lathering shampoo into his scalp, lids shut to protect his eyeballs.

 

Taichi took a step into the stream and allowed himself to move his hands along Yamato’s body as the water pattered down his skin, making his clothes cling.

 

Yamato didn’t really react. He was kinda stiff – in the non-sexy way – and just let Taichi do whatever he wanted. So Taichi’s hand travelled down Yamato’s thigh. He wasn’t used to Yamato being so complacent. It was almost freaky.  But that was all the things Yamato would not say.

 

Taichi nuzzled Yamato’s nape and drank water off Yamato’s shoulder. His hand slipped on Yamato’s inner thighs.

 

“There, you’re full-on man now,” Taichi said. “No skirt. I still want to be with you. You are so sexy to me right now.”

 

Jesus, he knew how he felt even if he didn’t come right out and say it. He figured he knew how Yamato felt as well, and that Yamato knew how Taichi felt about him.

 

Yamato dropped his head back against Taichi’s shoulder. No matter what, even if he went along with Taichi’s fetish – which maybe, _maybe_ Yamato could allow himself to believe had more to it than that – Yamato still wanted to protect his position as Taichi’s best friend.

“Taichi-“

Taichi kissed his cheek.

Yamato raised a hand and stroked Taichi’s hair.

“I’m sorry I was a bitch. But I meant what I said – I’m not asexual and I don’t want to be your boyfriend on paper only.” 

Taichi kissed his cheek again. “You’re a big baby, though.”

 

“I’m not a big baby…”

 

“You’re huge baby.”

 

“Whatever,” Yamato said and led Taichi’s hand to his arse.

 

Taichi hummed – no, more like purred. “I know your ass is always thirsty, but you sure you wanna do it with all this slipping hazard around?”

 

Yamato turned around and Taichi swore on his life Yamato pouted at him. A very pouty pout. Pretty pouty pout. Kissy pouty pout.

 

“If it means I’m slipping on your dick – yeah.” Yamato shoved his hand down Taichi’s soaked trousers and into his trunks. He gave Taichi’s inflating dick a soft squeeze and led him closer to his body, still holding on to him like a puppy on leash.

Yamato was getting turned on very fast. He needed to touch and he needed to be touched.

 

Taichi spun him back around roughly and pinned him to the wall. He grabbed his hips and pulled himself closer so that Yamato’s arse pressed on his crotch and he was against Yamato’s back, groaning quietly and panting in Yamato’s ear.

 

“Feel that?”

 

“…”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I feel it…” Yamato said.

 

“You know what this means?”

 

Yamato bit his lip.

 

“It means I’ll treasure you more than anyone.”

 

Yamato smiled, but made sure Taichi didn’t see it. “Rawer. Sexy,” but then he thumped his head into the wall tiles. “Shit. Condoms are in the bedroom.”

 

 “Just the tip.”

 

“Taichi…”

 

Taichi spat on his hand and layered the goo on the top of his cock before slapping Yamato’s arse with it.  “Just the tip and I cum outside.”

 

“… Just the tip.”

 

***

 

Taichi’s legs were jelly when they came out of the tub and he let Yamato wrap a towel over his hair like a turban.

 

His wet clothes made a pool on the floor, so he also let Yamato peel them off him and leave them hanging over the laundry line.

 

They dived into Yamato’s bed, butt naked and equally soft, and fell asleep with Taichi’s towel rolling off on the pillow.

 

Needless to say, Taichi woke up sick.

 

“Serves you right for getting into the shower with clothes on,” Yamato said while replacing the dried hot-wipe on Taichi’s forehead with a fresh one and soaked off the excess water which trickled down Taichi’s brow.

 

“Yamato!” Taichi whined, “be nice to meeeeeeee!”

 

Yamato slapped Taichi’s face with the wipe he’d just removed. “I AM nice to you. If I weren’t nice to you, your mum would be the one canoodling with you right now.”

 

He left Taichi to moan while walking down to the kitchen and fetching the steamed rice porridge he cooked from the stove.

 

He carried it back to Taichi on a tray along with cough medicine, and found Taichi covered up to his chin in a duvet with only his fingers peeking out of it as if he was a baby T-rex. His eyes followed Yamato, spelling ‘I’m cute, right? Right, Yamato? I’m cute? Love me!’

 

It was stupid, but it worked. Taichi was like the huge stuffed Paddington Bear Yamato never got to own but wanted to squish so bad anyway. 

 

Taichi’s eyes grinned on their own. He looked like an imp when he opened his mouth expectantly. 

 

Yamato couldn’t believe it.

 

“You’re a grown-ass man, Taichi. Feed yourself.”

 

But Taichi only smacked his lips once and opened his mouth wide. Next thing, Yamato was feeding a friggin’ twenty one year old man using the aeroplane method. How? _How_ did this happen?!

 

He knew how it happened. Taichi had had Yamato wrapped around his tiny pinky since they were eleven.

 

Well, the aforementioned pinky did things to Yamato that felt very good and went places that felt very good, so that was fine.

 

On top of everything else, Taichi also expected Yamato to wipe his chin for him. It’s like he regressed all the way back to babyhood. At any second he’d demand Yamato changed his nappies and wail after being refused chocolate biscuits.

 

To be honest, though, Yamato reckoned he got where Taichi was at.

 

Everyone was always dependent on Taichi. He was their leader. Everyone looked up to him. He took on himself all the responsibility – and all the guilt, along with the entire flank, when something went to shit. Yamato didn’t always help either.

 

So it was healthy for him to unwind some and be pampered. It’s kinda like having a mental breakdown – but healthier, and without the incapacitating emotional trauma.

 

After Taichi was happy and fed  – in that order, since the two were often inflated and had cause and effect dynamics – Yamato put the bowl on the table and was about to go wash dishes before he was yanked back into the bed and had a blanket thrown over the head.

 

“What-“

 

Taichi wrapped his arms around Yamato and rubbed his belly.

 

“Stay.”

 

“What am I, your dog?”

 

“Nope – but you’re a bitch.”

 

“… Are these your balls on my knee?”

 

Taichi rolled Yamato on his side and readjusted their position to protect his sperm box. Now his arms locked Yamato in place.

 

“You won’t neuter me. You want my dick,” he said and nuzzled Yamato’s neck, nibbling on the skin and getting high on Yamato’s shampoo in the process.

 

“If I’m a bitch, you’re a dumb puppy…” Yamato mumbled and moved his hand behind his head to stroke Taichi’s hair.

 

“What?”

 

“What?”

 

Taichi lined a train of kisses down the column of Yamato’s neck and pulled the collar of Yamato’s shirt. Now he had a good access to Yamato’s pretty shoulder. Yamato just had the best bone structure.

 

It tickled. Yamato hummed, face trained on the far wall. “If I’ll catch your cold, I’m gonna rip your throat out and use your windpipe to smoke weed.”

 

Of course Taichi only snuggled up to him more. “No you won’t.”

 

“Yeah, I will.”

 

“No you won’t,” Taichi said again and lowered his hand to Yamato’s ass to cup a feel. “And wear something sexy on Saturday.”

He downright felt Yamato trying to bite off a smile.

 

“By sexy you mean…?”

 

“Something I’ll have fun tearing off your skinny butt.”

 

Yamato stayed mute from here on end – or at least until Taichi’s breath slowed down and he fell into a sick baby’s noon nap.

 

Sexy, huh?

***

 

Mimi was in a gay cross-dressering high heaven. Yamato was spamming her non-stop about his slutty fashion choices – no shame, though! – and she couldn’t wait to milk all the juicy details out of him.   

 

By the time Friday night rolled around, he was her greatest masterpiece, with that cute black skirt, cuter zipped cardigan and a pair of perfect crimson lips. They really were pouty. He should consider making online money off fetishists. She stuck a bobby pin to collect his bangs and pull them out of his eyes and, as his French pépère have it – voila! He was perfect! A real doll! He was delish. D-E-L-I-S-H.

 

She arrived at his place a couple of hours before everyone else did to help him prepare – both the appetizers and his booty, and she was the one who opened the door when Sora and Jyou came in, elbow intertwined in elbow. And then Koushiro. And then Daisuke with Hikari. Takeru couldn’t make it because he had basketball practice. And really, Mimi was the real host here while Yamato was dying of shame somewhere in the house. It’s been over a month, but he never got over the frills in his knickers.

 

When Taichi walked in, he had a huge smile on. He looked like a maniac on a rampage. And when he saw Yamato, his smile got bigger, almost splitting his face in half. He rummaged through his duffle bag and pulled out two purple sweatshirts.

 

He hauled one over himself and shoved Yamato, head first, into the second one.

 

Yamato didn’t get to fight back against the intrusion into his fashion choices before a huge heart with the script “silly couple” was printed all over his – and Taichi’s – chest.

 

Hikari frowned, Sora raised a metaphoric eyebrow, Mimi grinned, Koushiro was confused.

Taichi kissed Yamato’s cheek – which bured up – and whispered, “can’t wait to tear it off of you,” while making sure Yamato was the only one who heard it.

He liberated the Matcha chocolate squares from Sora’s hand and led everyone to the sofas so they could watch some prime-time, mind-numbing rubbish.

 

He plummeted – butt first – into the cushions, pulled Yamato next to him, and made a snugglebug out of his skinny, blonde booty.

 

Haha! The expressions he was getting were brill! What a ride!

 

And Yamato didn’t hit him – he didn’t even TRY hitting him – so that was such a major plus, and Taichi could live out his lovey-dovey, slightly kitschy love-life from here on and forever and ever. Plus, Yamato’s cooking will be even _more_ accessible.

 

Huh, he kinda felt like they were playing a kinky gay version of house and he was all for it.

 

Past the initial surprise of all Chosen present, no one gave them grief about this newfound relationship. Most people present offered supportive smiles and didn’t comment.

 

Mimi, though, was all perked up; she’d be the first to yell ‘I told you so!’ Yamato and Taichi were a bit too synced. A bit too much a breed of their own. Handsy too. For evidence, just a few minutes ago they had an entire conversation with their eyes no one else was invited to share. They thought no one noticed, but they were wrong. This was gonna happen. This was happening!

 

She sent Taichi a text – “Have him. Enjoy what he’ll do to you.”

 

Then she followed Taichi, from the moment her text vibrated in his pocket, to him whipping out the phone, flipping it open, reading what she wrote with the pale glow illuminating his face, and growing a warm blush on his puffy cheeks.

 

He glanced her way once and quickly folded the phone back. For a moment there he looked like a child in front of his first crush. Maybe he really was. It was adorable.

 

The rest of the evening was spent vegetating in front of the screen.

 

Yamato was _way_ more cooperative than usual. He and Taichi sat in the back, so they had some level of privacy, and Yamato put his head on Taichi’s chest and even hoisted his leg a bit. Like a cuddle. Almost.

 

Taichi fancied the idea of Yamato in a cuddling position. He appreciated the idea of Yamato in a cuddle-like situation with him at all times. He threw an arm around Yamato’s shoulder and pulled him closer, taking another whiff of his hair while he was at it. And Yamato’s bare knee was right there, smooth and peeking from under his skirt…

 

Whoops! That’s a boner.

 

He tried holding it in – he really did! At least twenty minutes of his life were spent crossing his legs, uncrossing his legs, and doing all sorts of general wiggling activities.

 

It was bloody hard! No pun intended. It wasn’t his fault his fingers – which had sentience, mind you, and a sense of individualistic will – trickled to the wonderful dip of Yamato’s waist.

 

Such a good dip. _So_ dip-y.

 

Naturally, they dropped from Taichi’s favourite dip to his favourite thigh and sailed down to his favourite knee. “Nmm… velvety smooth… such pretty thighs.” That wasn’t supposed to be audible.

Like a beat, Yamato grabbed his wrist and led Taichi’s hand beneath his skirt, inviting him to his warm, supple thighs. Since Taichi was oh so terrible at saying “no”, he traced those delicious curves with his palms and slipped them onto panty-covered buttocks.  Wait… no… Taichi encountered a distinct lack of fabric where one should have been. Well, that’s a mood. And that’s Taichi’s boner again. He felt so attacked! And the soft mounds were yielding an- and _so_ pliable in his hands when he kneaded them!

Where no one could see, Taichi grabbed Yamato’s knicker-less bum, pulled those warm cheeks apart, and slipped a finger to tickle the tight muscle waiting for him. His pinky fumbled with Yamato’s soft balls, stroking the swollen and sensitive bits.

 

From the side of Taichi’s eye, Yamato struggled against the shit-eating grin threatening to split his face. Oh, that smug bastard!

 

Taichi pushed another finger into Yamato, stretching the soft pucker.

 

Yamato’s breath hitched near to Taichi’s ear and wheezed out through his throat in small pants.

 

Good reaction.

 

Yamato half-rocked, half-squirmed, like a baby worm, and slid down on Taichi’s knuckles. He moved his body along Taichi’s and pushed his hand under Taichi’s shirt, feeling up some warm skin and hard muscles.

 

Oh… oh wow – that’s a better reaction!

 

Horny blue into horny brown, their eyes crossed and Yamato smirked, guiding his wrist up to Taichi’s pecks – and then down.

 

He unbuttoned the top of Taichi’s grey jeans and moved the flaps aside. The elastic band of his Y briefs became visible.

 

“Really? Gold?” He whispered in Taichi’s ear before kissing his neck with a wet, sloppy mouth.

 

“I’m a golden boy!”

 

Yamato pulled said golden elastic band. The tip of Taichi’s cock peeked its way out and it was _sopping_. Yamato tickled the shaft and Taichi’s breath went out of sync.

 

“Taichi… I want more.”

 

“What kind of more…?” Taichi chocked.

 

“The kind where you fuck my arse.”

 

“Here?” 

 

“In my room. Either you fuck me or we are stopping this. I want this…” he gave a soft squeeze, inflating Taichi’s cock as if it was his pet balloon. “Give it to me?”

 

“S-sure! Please take it!”

 

Taichi kissed Yamato’s temple and got up discreetly, pulling Yamato behind him.

 

They snuck to Yamato’s room, with Taichi grabbing his ass and slapping it every other step.

 

Once safe inside, Taichi locked the door and turned to Yamato with the most dumb-arsed, droopy smile his anatomy could produce.

 

“Roll up the skirt and let me see your pretty arse.”

 

With a dirty smirk, Yamato took a few steps backwards towards his desk, not breaking eye contact.

 

When the back of his thighs hit the wooden surface, he turned around and bent over, lifting his skirt. The raising fabric revealed his luscious, apple-shaped buttocks and two lacy lines.

 

“Crotch-less?” Taichi asked without actually anticipating the answer, and stood behind Yamato’s bum, stroking along the smooth curve. “I may need to tear these off of you.”

 

“Mm-mm,” Yamato hummed.

 

 Cheeky.

 

Taichi also entertained his other hobby – unzipping Yamato’s tops. Throwing the sweatshirt over his head, peeling the jumper off of him, and exposing Yamato’s smooth chest with that metallic “shling” in the background was _so_ satisfying.  It was like hot coffee on Sunday morning. Or rolling over bubble paper.

 

Can’t peel it off of him too soon!

 

 

Yamato reached behind him and let Taichi’s hand feel up his naked chest, till his warm fingers were spread against the bra cup. “There’s wire in it, so it’s really stiff.” He pressed on Taichi’s palm, pinning it against the organza and lace. “And ‘round here, it’s the pad. There’s something soft stuffed in it.”

 

Taichi grabbed Yamato and hauled him up till he was plush against Taichi’s chest, and Taichi had a great view into the lacy balcony hiding Yamato’s cute nips.

 

He added his second hand and squeezed. “You’re a soft boy, aren’t you…?”

 

Yamato’s body rolled into the touch and he tried really hard to stifle a laugh – the skirt was one thing, but there’s a limit!

 

While Taichi snuck under the bra to pinch his nipples, Yamato opened the drawer and retrieved the lube.

 

He turned around in Taichi’s arms, bra flipped over, and shoved the bottle at Taichi.

 

Since there wasn’t any manoeuvering-space, Yamato looked so _cute_ with his arms bent like that against Taichi’s chest!

 

Taichi didn’t really need any more incentive. He accepted the bottle and dragged Yamato to the bed, falling right after him.He pinned Yamato’s wrists to the mattress and pushed his knees apart, holding Yamato down with his weight.

 

“Stay just like that,” he said, still smiling like a right nutter, and scaled down Yamato’s body to his nylon-clad feet, leaving the lube bottle abandoned on the pillow. There, Taichi popped Yamato’s thumb into his mouth, dripping saliva down the sock. His hand climbed up Yamato’s shins, massaging the tout muscles weighing down his fingers.

 

Yamato shivered and Taichi paved a lane of kisses to Yamato’s knees where finished with a peck to each knee-cap. 

 

He had dirty smirks on aplenty when he hoisted Yamato’s legs over his shoulder and kneaded these lovely thigs in one hand while grabbing the bottle again with the other.

 

Eventually, with Yamato’s legs just sorta dangling there, Taichi squeezed the droopy, plush solution on his fingers.

 

He spread it around some and then shoved his hand under Yamato’s bum. Taichi tugged at the flimsy strings that hardly protected the tiny passage into Yamato’s body, pushing them out of the way.

 

Yamato squeaked and Taichi stopped. “You alright, mate?”

“It’s cold.”

 

Shit, did he have a look on him. A soft and slippery anal doll. Yamato’s eyes were watery and his cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. Even the normally thin line of his disapproving lips was now a fluffy coral. And his body was soft, so he had no problem being in difficult positions.

 

 

A thump between Taichi’s legs threatened to drop him on his head. Right.

He withdrew his hand for a moment and rubbed his hands together, making a few interludes here and there to blow hot air on them, before pushing it back between Yamato’s legs.

 “Better?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Yamato hummed in the affirmative.

Careful on all sides, Taichi gave one last warm breath to his hands and pried Yamato’s bum cheeks with his wet fingers, shoving himself into the petit pucker.

 

“Com’on, baby – open up for me,” Taichi ragged down Yamato’s ear, and massaged his rectum till it was soft and supple.

 

Yamato sighed at the gentle probing into his body and how Taichi moulded it with animated passion.

 

“Juicy enough or you?” Taichi asked, so pleased with himself Yamato could punch him… after the sex.

 

He didn’t wait for an answer and sucked on Yamato’s ear shell. “Shit,” Taichi grinned, “you’re still really tight and it turns me on something wicked. I wanna shove it in in one go and not care even if it hurts.”

 

Yamato tugged Taichi’s hair to make him look up.

 

“So shove it in.”

 

It took Taichi a few seconds to process the permission, but it took him zero time to divest himself out of his _evil_ trousers and fling them to the other side of the room.

Taichi whipped out his dick and gave it a few pumps before rolling the condom on it, and aligning the mushroom tip in front of Yamato’s hole. He smiled at Yamato, who smiled back, and jerked his pelvis up to meet it.

The sight of his shaft slowly disappearing inside Yamato’s _super-tight_ , pink anus, and the mewling complaints dripping from Yamato’s mouth like maple syrup was _something_.

 

Not tearing Yamato’s arse right there was probably one of the hardest things Taichi had to do in his life.

Yamato’s hands locked on Taichi’s butt, goading him to go in deeper – and when he did, Taichi was all about that “Fuck, yeah! And fuck the world! And fuck Yamato!”  

 

Everything pretty much went slippery-when-wet from there.

 

The powerful snap of Taichi’s hips, and his thighs slapping the flesh beneath Yamato’s bum, was so good, it was a reason for Yamato not to wake up in the morning. And Taichi’s smell… Taichi had a great technique. There was nothing but skin, heat, sweat, and pleasure where Yamato was at.

 

When Taichi prepped him for Doggy, Yamato was so far gone, he’d let Taichi call him a bitch every day.

When Taichi thrust in without holding back, Yamato grabbed his arm. “More.”

Taichi laughed. “This tiny arse doesn’t hold back.”

He started slamming his body into Yamato.

Yamato was more responsive than any girl Taichi’s ever been with. It was such a ride.

 

Taichi raised his legs, putting all his body weight inside Yamato.

Yamato screamed, but curled his feet up to caress Taichi’s with his toes.

 

Their bodies were compatible. Yamato barely remembered how it’s like to have another human satisfy him and touch him like he couldn’t himself.

 

In that remote corner of Japan, they were having sex.

 

And it was a good sex.

 

Yamato didn’t know sex could be this lovely. He didn’t know sex could be this warm.

 

The bliss of the post-coital moments was its own, self-contained pearl in the time flow. Yamato buried his face in the pillow and Taichi stroked his hair.

 

He looked at Yamato’s rosy cheeks, flushed face, warm skin – the vestiges of his orgasm – and kissed his face all over.

 

It was a mind blowing orgasm too. Taichi was bloody proud of himself. “You’re a good lay,” Taichi murmured into Yamato’s ear. “Come here when you come back to your senses and I’ll fuck you back out of them.” His breath stirred the fine strands over Yamato’s neck.

 

Yamato kissed his nose. “And you’re a good shag.”

 

“You alright?” Taichi asked.

 

“Any reason I shouldn’t be?”

 

“I mean-“

 

“You hit the right hole, don’t worry.” He wrapped his arms around Taichi’s shoulders and pulled Taichi’s fluffy head to his chest. “Could go for a beer, I guess.”

 

“Want me to fetch some?”

 

Yamato made a very discontent noise. “… Yeah, but I also want you in bed.” He made the sound of a ‘happy.’ That’s it – an amorphous ‘happy.’

 

“But what do you want more?”

 

Yamato shut his eyes and scrunched his forehead, as if he was meditating about his career choices, or taiyaki fillings, or some other world-shattering, future-defining affairs.

 

“Mmmm… Get me booze.” 

 

Taichi slipped into his trousers without bothering to put underwear on, but with Yamato giving him very conflicted looks.

 

“I’m gonna take literally a minute. Stop sulking. Baby.”

 

“I’m not a baby…”

 

“You’re a colossal baby. Your baby-ness is bigger than the Milky Way.”

 

Taichi snuck out the room and into the kitchen, tiptoeing to avoid distracting his friends from the idiot box and the idiot explosion film on it – wait, was that “Tokyo Gore Police”?! Bloody hell…

 

He also tiptoed to the fridge and he tiptoed all the way back to the bedroom.

 

“Told you it’d be a minute.”

 

“What are you holding?”

 

Taichi glimpsed at the merlot in his hand. “You ran out of beer,” he said simply.

 

“So cooking wine?”

 

“You wanna get on the piss or not?”

 

Yamato shrugged and Taichi tilted the wine into a mug Yamato used for his coffee till it topped up his drink.

 

“Classy.”

 

He clicked the mug to the bottle in Taichi’s hand and swung it back into his throat. He gulped it in one go and flung his head back into his pillow.

 

Taichi watched him go like you watch a circus freak, threw off his trousers again, and climbed right next to him.

 

Instinctively, Yamato budged. “Think we’ll do this even after I’ll stop being a girl?”

 

Taichi pressed him to his chest, and wrapped them in a blanket.

 

“You are not a girl right now, either.”

 

“Yeah… But I wear a skirt all the time and you like it.”

 

“Wearing a skirt isn’t what defines a person and it isn’t what makes you a woman. The scots wore skirts and I like them too. Doesn’t mean I wanna bugger them.”

 

“The scots wore _kilts_.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“But you want me when I wear it,” Yamato persisted.

 

Taichi growled. To be honest, he would have flung himself out of bed or thrown Yamato off of it, if it weren’t for Yamato choosing that moment to burrow his nose – little nose – in Taichi’s moist armpit. He looked so tired. Taichi couldn’t do that to him. But he did pinch him.

 

“Ow-! What the fuck, Taichi-“

 

“God, you’re an arsehole! Why are you _still_ so fuckin’ fixated about it?!”

 

Yamato only gave him a confused look. “’bout what…?”

 

Little blotches of sadness concentrated right there, behind that confusion.

 

Shit. He looked like a puppy. But Taichi got it. For Yamato in particular, it was important to have things which were only his.

 

“Yamato,” Taichi vented the pent-up air from his lungs, “it’s not about the damn skirt! It’s about us! It’s always been about us. It’s always been about you being my best friend before it was about sex. So, to answer your question – yes, when you’ll wear your stupid skinny jeans that miraculously fit the male crotch tomorrow, I’ll still want you.”

 

For a second, Yamato opened his mouth but then he closed it. Then he opened it again and crashed into Taichi’s lips, with tongues roaming inside clashing mouths.

 

“And the stockings…?”

 

“I’ll love you even without the stockings.”

 

Sloppy, last kisses before falling asleep.

 

Yamato stroked his belly, but Taichi put his hand on top of Yamato’s to stop him. “We sleep now.”

 

“I’ll wear the stockings for you sometimes,” Yamato said and smiled.

 

 


	9. We're in the High Noon Age of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this is the last chapter 0.0  
> I can't describe how odd it feels to finish the first work I posted publically - but here we are. I actually had it ready two weeks ago, but I had to gather the bravery to post it ^^'  
> I really hope it was a fun read, everyone! Thank you so much for being here and doing this with me!

Morning was a riot.

 

Takeru walked in to wake them up and report they weren’t as stealthy last night as they thought they were, only to discover Taichi’s naked arse telling him “How’dya dooooo?”

 

His faces looped more shades of disgust than a rainbow on acid, and he gave up on communicating with either for three hours, let alone inform Yamato the rest of the chosen drank all the beer and snuck out in the middle of the night.

 

After finally joining the living, Yamato served everyone breakfast – something Takeru and Gabumon had to Rock-Paper-Scissors for – and Taichi volunteered driving Takeru to his mum.

 

Taichi instructed Takeru to go wait in his car, before Yamato made sure his little brother was out of earshot and pulled Taichi aside.

 

“Wanna do something tonight…?”

 

And there was just that _something_ in his tone which made Taichi feel all kinds; right, wrong and butterflies. “What’d you have in mind…?”

 

“Well, I guess you can go out and drink with me and then fuck me, or you can come over when I get home from the barber’s and fuck me, or you can come over before and fuck me, or you can come over before and after and fuck me... Really, so many fucking options…”

 

Ooooh, Yamato was trying to be flirty! Lorde, Taichi was NOT ready for this day! He pulled Yamato to his arms and hummed – so much it was borderline a purr. “Keep me posted on your pick, right?”

 

“Brill.” 

 

***

 

In between duties and schedules, they agreed Taichi would pick Yamato up and they’ll hit Shinjuku for Yamato’s favourite pub.

 

Taichi rapped his knuckles against the door and Gabumon was the one who opened it.

 

“Where is that fabulous arsehole?” Taichi asked, looking down to meet Gabumon’s maroon jewels of eyes.

 

“I’m here!” Yamato jumped out of the shower room, finishing wrapping a towel around his head, before approaching his guest and punching Taichi in the arm. “Don’t be up my arse about it.”

 

 “Since when do you _not_ want me up your arse?”

 

“Ha. Funny,” Yamato deadpanned and removed the towel.

 

He cut his hair shorter. In a way which showed more of his angular jawline and Adam’s apple.

 

He searched something on Taichi’s face. Disapproval… or rejection… or just any form of icky-ness or something. Yamato made sure – ‘cause manly bits.

 

Well, he didn’t find any and Taichi wasn’t gonna let him.

 

So Yamato slipped into his normal jeans – which Taichi referred to as his slut jeans – and let his shirt hang open on his chest. He kicked his hips to the side while running his fingers through his hair, and looked at Taichi expectantly.

 

Yamato was posing for him and Taichi needed a few seconds to remember how breathing worked. Men’s or women’s clothes – no one could ever argue Yamato wasn’t visually compelling.

 

“So where are we going?” Taichi managed past his giddiness.

 

Yamato threw his arms over Taichi’s neck. “I,” he kissed Taichi’s lips and spaced his words between them with a voice too intimate which coiled around Taichi’s spine and arteries, “know,” another one, “a cute, little pub,” and another one, “in Nichoume.”

 

Taichi’s hands clung to Yamato’s back. The slow meetings of their lips and Yamato’s smell – it was like floating in warm water. Like a lullaby.

 

During what was apparently a practiced routine, Yamato had Gabumon recite back to him all the emergency numbers, his number, and the pub’s number. It was such a show! Taichi tried not to giggle when ‘Yamato is such a good papa!’ popped into his mind.

 

The three minute route between Yamato’s front door and Taichi’s parked car were spent flirting like horny teenagers, grabbing asses, and snogging hard on the doorframe.

 

They parked in Yayoicho and continued to the pub on foot. The picture of two beefy, naked guys wrestling was a pretty tell-tale sign.

 

Inside the pub, the air was dank with cigarette smoke, loaded with the heavy odour of booze, and pierced by sets of eyes which welcomed new-comers. Some were curious. Some were friendly. Some were one vodka shot away from offering a threesome.

 

Yamato dragged Taichi to the bar, where the barman – a very muscular bloke with a bleached-blonde California look and a top which didn’t cover his navel all the way down – offered them handshake, a sultry bat of eyelashes, and his new, homemade cocktail on the house.

 

Taichi narrowed his eyes into slits. Was this guy trying to snatch his Yama away from him?

 

The other patrons weren’t as flashy. Just a few normal blokes, a couple of whom were chatting each other up – some with really nice triceps, and at least one with a fabulous moustache. 

 

One guy – who honest to fucking god looked barely sixteen – brushed his palm against Yamato’s bare shoulder, and when Yamato turned around, the twink waved with familiarity Yamato didn’t cue Taichi in on.

 

A few “hey”s and “all righs?”s were exchanged. Maybe some more motor-mouthing.

 

Was _this_ guy trying to snatch his Yama away?! Taichi didn’t hear almost anything due to the stereo bum-bumping near his head, but suddenly he was kinda salty.

 

After finishing his business with Taichi’s _boyfriend_ , the bloke moved to the far end of the pub, where a small dance floor catered to swaying men of various shades and sizes.

 

Yamato followed the direction of Taichi’s head, and dunked an arm around his shoulder.

 

“D’you wanna dance?”

 

Taichi shrugged, shaking Yamato off, and stared down at the foam depleting from his beer. “Not really.”

 

“Sour bitch.”

But since Taichi didn’t turn the situation into something funny, and really _did_ look like a sour bitch, Yamato leaned towards his cheek and gently massaged Taichi’s nape.

“What’s on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Taichi.”

Taichi swung the last gulp from his beer and put the empty bottle back with a dull thud. “I donno. Just kinda feel stuffy.”

Yamato did a three-sixty around the room, and tried smiling, but his face was trained on the dust grains filling the cracks and broken off bits of the bar. “You don’t like it here?”

At the dejection Yamato didn’t manage to remove from his voice, Taichi spun on his chair and stroked Yamato’s arm. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… I thought I’d feel like I belong here. But… then I didn’t?” He added with a guilty smile, “also, I’m paranoid about pervy Yama-thieves who want to kidnap you and everyone is a potential culprit.” 

Yamato wasn’t sure whether to laugh or hit him. “You know, not every gay man wants to shove his dick into the first anus available. Or at all. We have standards and we want intimacy just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, no, I get that, but… You have no self-awareness, mate. ”

“What does that mean?!”

Taichi leaned over and kissed his nose. “It means you’re so hot I bet some of these guys had wiped their ass ten times already and hadn’t taken a shit yet, you get me?  Just looking at you makes my brain go on meltdown.”

Huh. Oh. Well, now Yamato did feel hot. All over his face, actually.  

All over his body to be frank.

That’s a hard-on.

Yamato grabbed Taichi’s arm and pulled him up –“whoa!’ – before dragging him out.

 

Taichi quickly threw a few notes on the bar and tried keeping up with Yamato’s humongous strides.

 

A U turn from the door to a nearby alley took them around the pub and welcomed them with an abandoned concrete courtyard, dimly lit with orange street lamps and lined with rubbish bags which vaguely oozed of spilled liquor.

 

Yamato wrapped his arms around Taichi’s neck and pulled their torsos together. He guided Taichi’s hands to his hips and swayed to the music, which still boomed plenty enough through the pub’s windows.

 

He was totally out of sync, pulling them into a slow-paced fluctuation from foot to foot – a sweet thing – while the actual tune was a jumpy pop, but whatever.

 

“Are you more comfortable now?” He asked and pushed his fingers into the knots in Taichi’s hair. His thumbs stayed in the open, and pet the skin which stretched between Taichi’s high cheekbones and his temples.

 

“Huh-ah,” Taichi vocalized to the affirmative and moved himself to the rhythm Yamato dictated.

 

And bloody hell, was Yamato sweet! It was immensely hard not to kiss him!

 

So why resist?

 

Yamato distributed the song lyrics evenly along Tachi’s lips every time they smacked his – the gentle and the soft, and the ones that tried making his throat their permanent abode and never leave. 

 

Taichi’s hands moved down, from Yamato’s back to his defined waist, to his hips, and to Taichi’s favourite bump – namely Yamato’s arse. It was _just_ the right size and had superb consistency.

 

 He squeezed.

 

“Wanna go to a love hotel? Since we’re already in Shinjuku…” He said, as if the location was just the excuse he needed to execute all the kinky scenes he read up on in his pervy comics.

 

In his fantasies, this was the point where Yamato jumped him – with his legs curled around Taichi’s waist ‘n’ all – and they snogged their way to the nearest sordid lobby.

 

In reality, Yamato’s lips wriggled before settling into a sad non-smile.

 

“They don’t let two men in…”

 

Taichi watched Yamato’s hand ghost over the fabric of Taichi’s shirt and slowly undoing the buttons – a response to a shock Taichi didn’t know he was showing.

 

“But there’s plenty of room here…” Yamato whispered and ran his tongue along the outer shell of Taichi’s ear.

 

Sexy little fucker. He wasn’t usually so… initiative. Not unless he was pissed off for some reason. Well, not exactly; contrary to his angry-forever face, he was unbelievably desperate and slutty in bed. That’s pretty hot. But he kinda deserved better than to be banged between the pool of cat piss and the black pile of rubbish bags.

 

“Let’s go home?” Taichi offered and hoped the answer was yes. Today they’ll do it till Yamato passed out.

 

Yamato nodded to the affirmative and Taichi dragged them out of this urine-ridden alley.

 

At home – well, Yamato’s home from which his dad was distinctly absent today and Gabumon was sound asleep– Yamato forced Taichi to sit on the couch.

“Wait here. You peek and I’m shaving your head off.”

He disappeared into his room, leaving Taichi with an uncomfortable situation down his trousers, but also plenty excitement to compensate for it.

Five more minutes and –“Taichi?” came from the room.

Taichi was up on his feet and dashing before Yamato had a chance to threaten the sanctity of his nether regions.

Yamato waited for him, leaning on the door frame with his hands innocently tucked behind his back. His lips were curved into a sweet smile.

Little garter belts showed under the plaid skirt he wore, and a tie which matched said skirt lay perfectly in place over his button-up, skinny blouse.

Taichi scanned him – up, down, over the moon, and back.

“Are we really doing this?”

“I’ve been a very naughty boy, Taichi.”

Taichi sighed. Today was a bad day for jeans. “Why, mister Ishida, this institution cannot tolerate such insolence. I must punish you.”

It took everything Yamato had not to break character, fall on his sissy-knickers-covered arse, and laugh himself to death. “Please spank me sir. I need to contemplate on my actions.”

He grabbed Taichi’s arm and dragged him inside, can’t wait to show him the new addition to the room –   a full-body mirror.

Taichi switched from checking out the thing and back to Yamato who really, _really_ tried to stifle a laugh.

“I feel like I’m gonna be eating you out till Christmas…” He mumbled and sat on the edge of the bed in front of the mirror before petting the space next to him. “On your knees, mister Ishida.”

Yamato practically skipped his way. It was borderline creepy – like a body-snatchers scenario. This wasn’t Yamato. It was an alien wearing a Yamato suit from the planet of hyper-realistic sex dolls.

Said alien caught up onto that line of thought and erupted with a full-body blush. He halted right before the bed. “We don’t have to do this if you think it’s stupid…”

Taichi grabbed his arm and manhandled him till he was lying on Taichi’s lap, his cotton knickers pushed down to his thighs and his butt in the air like a disco ball with a fatty shine. “I will not have any of your excuses this time, mister Ishida.”

Slap! The sharp sound of skin hitting skin mixed with Yamato’s yelp and both bounced. Yamato’s bum jiggled at the force of the impact and he squirmed around on Taichi’s knees. “Please sir,” he tried talking normally, but whatever came out of his mouth was closer to a moan and suddenly Taichi’s bulge was poking his belly-button, “punish me harder.”

So Taichi spanked him again and Yamato loved it! Or at least Taichi reckoned he loved it cause Yamato was making those cute little mewls and wiggling his bum.

Problem was, it was a hard act to keep up when every now and then Yamato’s hand brushed over the zip of Taichi’s jeans just _so_. Or when Taichi could see every slutty facial expression Yamato did in the mirror.

Maybe Yamato understood Taichi’s unspoken plight because he stopped his hand and shifted around. He climbed over Taichi and began frenching his wonderful neck. His hand dug down and unbuttoned his denim while grounding into him, cajoling anything below Taichi’s waist into a stiff stand.

 

In the mirror, Taichi watched how every move made Yamato’s lower back sink into his thigh-high socks and round his bum. Taichi couldn’t help himself and lazily inserted a finger into Yamato’s spreading hole.

 

Ooooh, the sounds coming out of Yamato’s mouth! Like choppy cut-out moans which spread evenly along Taichi’s neck every time Yamato tried going back to kiss him. But when Taichi craned his neck to get a better look at the mirror, Yamato shoved his face unkindly, angry at having his treat taken from him and his fun postponed. So now he took Taichi’s throat back with latching teeth.

 

Taichi pulled out his finger and Yamato protested – by whining. Taichi pushed himself into him and Yamato was satisfied tremendously – which he showed by moaning so hard!

With every thrust, Taichi’s cock slipped and disappeared into Yamato and Taichi had all the wet visuals through their sweaty mirror reflection. He watched how Yamato rode him with his two long legs bent and wrapped around his waist on either side.

Genius! Yamato was a bloody genius!

 

With head thrown back, his hands were planted on either side of Taichi’s knees. His skirt pooled up and his blouse clung to his chest. What a lovely pose.

Taichi grabbed Yamato’s hips and pulled him forward. “Come here.”

 

He gave the cotton shirt a lick. And he gave it another one again. Then he gave a few more till the fabric was drenched with saliva and almost transparent.  _There’s_ Yamato’s little nipple!

Taichi put one in his mouth and sucked. His hand went under Yamato’s shirt and up his side. Yamato cooed. He sunk his hands in Taichi’s hair and stretched his fingers across his scalp.

 

He pressed Taichi to his chest.

 

Lifting his head, Taichi kissed him.

 

Through broken pants and lip mashing, Yamato murmured, “I think I need to be punished more, sir.”

 

Taichi followed Yamato’s line of sight to the desk chair. He lifted the left side of his lips into half a shit-eating  grin and raised an eyebrow into what could have been an eye-roll, but wasn’t since he was too horny.

 

Yamato slowly got off of him, with quite a few ass-sways to boot along with a perked-up smirk, and sashayed towards the chair. Knees on the cushions, he looked back at Taichi.

 

Taichi _jumped_ from the bed.

 

“Put your hands on the back of the chair and turn your ass this way,” he grabbed Yamato’s waist, loving how the muscles and skin both yielded and resisted in his hands and the way it moved, “Yah, don’t let your hips fall.”

 

All and all, it was a wild night.

 

***

 

Taichi woke up to the loud whooshes of vacuum cleaning and an absent Yamato.

 

What kind of a sadistic bastard was he?! 

 

Taichi straightened up in bed. The pair of fluffy knickers from last night, now dirty with small yellow stains, fell off the sheets.

 

Just then Yamato walked into the room, carrying paper towels and a bottle of glass cleaning spray.

 

Taichi had a fun little idea.

 

He moved the blanket off his body, giving Yamato a healthy-sized glimpse of his morning erection from under an orange pair of tight boxers.

 

Yamato tried to pretend he didn’t see it, but couldn’t stop a smile from climbing up his right cheek.

 

Taichi grabbed the disposed knickers and dangled them in front of Yamato. “Can you clean the house with these?”

 

Yamato switched from staring at the flimsy piece to Taichi, his tongue glued to his cheek. “Why? You can’t even see them.”

 

Taichi rolled his eyes. “With nothing _but_ them.”

 

“Will you be watching?”

 

“Duh.”

 

“No.”

 

Taichi looked positively heart-broken.

 

“Please!”

 

“Will you be watching me while wearing nothing except your jockstrap and football socks?”

 

The latent condition gave Taichi pause and he weighted the pros and cons of the situation. “You run a tough bargain, sir, but yes, yes I will.”

 

Yamato yanked the panties and removed his clothes. In the process, he fixed his eyes on Taichi and Taichi’s own exposure of the respectable bulge in his trunks. The thirst didn’t evade Taichi, nor did the red on Yamato’s neck and chest. Especially the pretty way his nipples blushed and perked a bit.

 

So he took his clothes off _very_ slowly to give Yama a show, in hopes his good intentions would be reciprocated. He pulled his shirt over his arms, flexing his muscles and showing Yamato his renewed tan. And for the final treat, he pulled down his boxers to reveal his half-erection growing into its full potential.

 

His hopes were dashed when Yamato changed out of his clothes with trained speed and grabbed his cleaning utensils. “Hurry up and get your jockstrap game on,” he shouted over his shoulder as he went back out.

 

So through the day, Taichi ended up following Yamato around from room to room and salivating all over his skinny arse when he bent over to clean out the rubbish. At some point Gabumon walked in on one scene such as that, glimpsed between Taichi and Yamato for what Yamato considered an awkwardly lengthy amount of time, and asked Yamato if he can borrow his computer.

 

“S-sure,” Yamato stammered out and proceeded to sneak angry little glares at Taichi as if somehow this whole arrangement was all his fault. He also ignored Taichi till he was done cleaning. 

 

But when Yamato finally put the paper towels back in the cupboard, Taichi’s hands slid along his thighs and he nipped his neck. “Let’s form a cuddle monster…”

 

Yamato stroked Taichi’s head. “As satisfying as it may sound, I’m gonna try making jam now.”

 

“Why?” Taichi asked into Yamato’s shoulder.

 

“Cause I couldn’t find any raspberry one in the combini and Gabumon really wants one.”

 

“Pffft.”

 

Yamato disentangled from Taichi’s grasp and bonked him on the forehead. “I’ll learn how to make Jam and then I’m gonna rock your world!”

 

***

 

“Ow! Ow! Yamato! Ow! My hips!” Taichi squirmed under the fingers massaging his lower back.

 

It was a new morning. His baby-naked arse faced up. His face was planted in the pillow, grimacing as Yamato placed a warm towel on said hips.

 

“I used, like, half a bottle of lube on your stupid arse and two condoms, you baby…” Yamato said, gently stroking Taichi’s back.

 

“I’m not a baby…”

 

 “You’re a big baby.”

 

“I’m not a big baby.”

 

 “You’re a huge baby.”  Yamato leaned over Taichi’s head and kissed his temple.

 

Taichi turned his head to meet Yamato’s lips a couple of times. “Next time, be like “Taichi! Let me cum” all begging and shit…”

 

 Yamato slapped his hand on Taichi’s face and pushed it back into the pillow.

 

“Ain’t gonna happen.” And he kissed him again.

***

 

“So, you took the job?” Sora asked, taking a sip of her ice-cream-topped coffee.

 

Mimi reclined back into her seat, a lenient smile at her disposal. “Well, I can’t refuse now, can I? I won’t put it past Yamato to beat a girl. Now I gotta send my lab coat to the washers.”

 

“I’m proud of you.”

 

“I know, mama.”  Mimi observed her for a bit and leaned back forward. “What about you?”

 

“Me?”

 

“That creep at your work?”

 

She expected Sora to brush past the subject as fast as possible – not laugh her arse off. But politely – because this is Sora.

 

“His wife may have discovered a mysterious black thong in his bag… was a whole scandal.”

 

Mimi scrunched her face for a moment, but then her eyes blew up. “Ew!”

 

“Want it back?”

 

“I can live without second-hand touching Yamato’s balls.”

 

“I’ll give them to Taichi, then.”

 


	10. Credits

Chapter titles:

Sway- Bic Runga

Rooftops and Invitations (female cover) – originally by Dashboard Conffessional

Psychotherapy – The Jezebles

Get Well – Icon for Hire

This is the Way – Jesse Banks

Summer Time Sadness – Lana Del Ray

Pleasure Drive – The Jezebles

Blur – MØ

 

  * Fop the life of me, I can’t remember where the title of chapter 7 is from ><



A special HUGE thanks for Jokessho who asked for this fic and did all the beta-ing and editing!  And of course was my mental support. Another big ‘thank you’ for anyone who read this fic and enjoyed it – so thank you!


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